Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 8

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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 8
The Winter Sword (8)

Boris jolted awake as though struck on the back of his head. In the distance, I saw Yefnen approaching with a wooden bucket filled with water. The words barely escaped Boris’s lips.
“…Brother?”
Yefnen handed the bucket to his bewildered younger brother and smiled gently.
“That’s right, you fool. Do you have another brother besides me?”
Boris stared up at Yefnen’s face without thinking to drink, his expression vacant. For reasons he couldn’t explain, tears suddenly streamed down his cheeks. Yefnen’s expression turned puzzled.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?”
When Yefnen approached and pressed his hand to Boris’s forehead, Boris dropped the bucket and embraced his brother tightly. The spilled water soaked both their trouser legs.
Before Yefnen could ask anything, Boris spoke first.
“No, Brother… I’m just… so glad to see you…”
In truth, Boris didn’t understand the reason himself. It seemed connected to last night’s events, but the most crucial part wouldn’t come to mind. Other memories remained intact—so why had only that portion vanished?
Yefnen said nothing, simply patting Boris’s shoulder. Then he knelt down to meet his younger brother’s eyes and gently stroked his cheek.
“Child, you’ve been quite frightened by something, haven’t you?”
Once his composure returned, the two picked up the bucket and headed back toward the spring.
It wasn’t far. The spring was small but well-maintained, encircled by rounded stones as though someone tended it regularly. The cord that Yefnen had cut from the bucket remained tied to a stake.
The two brothers drank their fill and retied the bucket as it had been before. Looking around, the landscape stretched endlessly in all directions like Longord—nothing but meadow.
“Brother, where exactly are we?”
“This is the Hata Plateau, the territory of the Guillem Family. It’s north of Longord. Surely you’ve heard the name before?”
An awkward smile played at the corners of Yefnen’s mouth. Boris tilted his head in confusion.
“How did we travel so far in just one night?”
Yefnen pointed toward the trees behind the spring. Between them, a single horse was tethered.
The thought of riding that horse through the night without waking sent confusion spiraling through his mind again. Had he truly remained unconscious throughout the entire journey on a swaying horse? Had he lost consciousness for such an extended period?
The next question was inevitable. Boris, drawn in by his brother’s bright demeanor and the peaceful surroundings, asked without expecting a favorable answer.
“Where is Father?”
“Ah…”
Yefnen opened his mouth but couldn’t answer immediately. Seeing Boris’s eyes widen, he hurriedly continued.
“Well, that is… he’s gone somewhere else, not here. With Tulk, the steward. But I’m not entirely certain where. Everything was in chaos, so we became separated while fleeing…”
“Then how will we find Father?”
“Tulk will contact us through magic.”
Boris nodded as though understanding, his expression settling.
“Then we’ll have to stay together for now? Can we go home? And… what about Uncle Blado?”
“Going home isn’t possible right now…”
Yefnen’s words trailed off, and Boris nodded knowingly.
Boris had first experienced his uncle’s terror at five years old. His uncle had come alone that day, seized Boris while he played in the courtyard, and held him tucked against his side as he stood before the well. When Father descended, Uncle had made as if to drop Boris into the well, laughing all the while.
Since Uncle was laughing, Boris had initially thought it was a prank meant to frighten him, and he’d giggled nervously in return. But even as the dark well grew increasingly terrifying, Uncle didn’t stop his “game.”
Boris couldn’t clearly remember how Father had driven Uncle away. Only the memory remained of two men facing each other across the well, exchanging some complicated conversation.
“Should we go to our great-grandmother?”
When Yefnen suddenly made the suggestion, Boris blinked in surprise.
There was only one great-aunt, and Boris had never met her. Though she was his father’s aunt, she remained a distant and unfamiliar figure to them. It was because his father and she belonged to different factions. Did his older brother know their great-aunt well?
“Janine, our great-aunt?”
“Yes. She should be in Elmer, where the March Circle Faction’s Councillor Smullen serves as mayor. It will take some time to get there, but it’s not terribly far.”
“But will our great-aunt welcome us?”
Yefnen tilted his head, his hair brushing both shoulders, and offered a bitter smile.
“Truthfully, I can’t be certain of that. But before Father finds us… we don’t really have anywhere else to go. The March Circle Faction isn’t completely opposed to Father, at least. Though I suppose there are other options.”
“What options?”
Yefnen’s shoulders sagged as he prepared to broach the most difficult subject, then he answered.
“Katsuya Elector.”
“Ah.”
Boris fell silent as well. The Katsuya Elector was simply a very important person whom Father served—that was the extent of his impression.
Yefnen had said he’d visited him several times following Father, but Boris had never seen him and felt only an endless sense of difficulty and fear toward him. Moreover, he’d heard that troubling matters had arisen recently, so it seemed unlikely that two brothers in such a state would receive anything better than cold treatment if they sought him out.
“Brother, do we really have to go anywhere at all?”
Yefnen looked surprised that his younger brother would say such a thing.
“Why? Do you think they won’t welcome us?”
“That too, but… instead of begging strangers to care for us, couldn’t we just live like commoners for a while, just the two of us? And Father will find us soon anyway, won’t he? So we’d only have to wait a little, and besides…”
Yefnen looked down at his brother with an expression that seemed both melancholy and frustrated. He would have avoided answering if he could, but he couldn’t.
“Boris, such a life isn’t as simple as you think. You and I have always lived at Jineman Manor, cared for by servants, so we don’t truly understand a commoner’s existence. And we don’t have much money either. You’re still young and can’t imagine it, but the life of poor commoners is terribly harsh.”
Yefnen continued, a bitter laugh playing at his lips.
“Right now, Uncle has taken control of the Manor, so he’ll be too busy with matters to pursue us for a while. But as long as we possess the Winter Sword Kit, he won’t leave us alone for long. Beyond that, there are countless other dangers.”
Boris listened to his brother’s words, yet he still didn’t grasp the gravity of their situation. He had his dependable older brother. What was there to fear? Besides, Father would find them soon enough.
“I’ll be fine. If I can’t endure this brief hardship, Father would scold me for not being worthy of the Jineman name.”
With those words, Boris offered a bright smile. He wanted to reassure his brother. He didn’t want to be a burden. In the end, Yefnen could only say this:
“Perhaps it doesn’t matter where we go. Let’s search for a nearby village first. Then we can think slowly about which direction to take.”
By the time they found the village, evening was already falling.
During their journey, the brothers inventoried their possessions. First, the two weapons Yefnen carried—the Winter Sword Kit—couldn’t be counted as assets. They were something to be protected, nothing more.
Next, Yefnen pulled a leather pouch from his waist and showed Boris the gold coins he’d prepared before their escape from home. There were ten large 100-Elso gold coins, and roughly thirty 100-Gobrun gold coins worth half as much.
It was a considerable sum. Even spending generously, it should sustain them for just over a month without difficulty.
Finally, there were items of monetary value. Neither possessed particularly valuable jewelry. Yefnen had a hand mirror with a sapphire-inlaid cover—a keepsake from their mother.
Boris had nothing. He’d searched his pockets thoroughly, and all he found was a shriveled piece of bread that the Nanny had packed for him to eat instead of dinner. The brothers cheerfully shared it as they arrived at the village.
Unfamiliar with the local geography, they didn’t even know the village’s name. In truth, the name hardly seemed to matter. Boris felt a slight thrill, as though a new adventure were beginning.
The village was quite large. The brothers had crossed the Meadow to reach it, but as they approached the village entrance, they found the road was well-trodden and extended quite far. They didn’t reveal their status or family name to the guards, instead offering appropriately common names as they entered.
The busiest street Boris had ever seen was in Kaznan, the village where markets were held in Longord. Though today wasn’t a market day, the street’s bustle was no less than that. It was a place where all manner of people lived.
Boris tried not to gawk like a country bumpkin, but he continued making that very mistake.
“Excuse me, where might an inn be in this area?”
The inn they found by asking a merchant woman was a three-story building with a lofty attic. Groups riding multiple horses and those who’d arrived by carriage crowded the entrance, making it difficult to slip past them. The brothers, riding a single horse together, were the most modest guests.
“Welcome!”
Boris startled at the loud voice, but it was directed not at them but at the four or five men who’d entered behind them. Those men, making a racket with their footsteps as they passed the brothers, requested two rooms at the counter while talking incessantly among themselves.
“Brother, is renting a room for a day expensive?”
It was an amusing question, but Yefnen didn’t know the answer either. He’d traveled before, but the inns where he’d stayed had always been better than this, and he’d always had servants attending him, so he’d never directly settled accounts at a counter. The Jineman Family had a strong martial tradition and somewhat avoided directly handling money or haggling.
“A room, please.”
The innkeeper’s attendant didn’t even mention the price of a room. She simply removed a key from one of the hooks lining the wall and set it down. Yefnen had only gold coins, so he couldn’t help but hesitate. He was truly inept when it came to matters of currency.
The attendant regarded Yefnen’s face with a peculiar gaze. He interpreted it as an unspoken question about why he wasn’t paying quickly.
“How much is it?”
The attendant’s lips twitched into an ambiguous smile as she said “10 Elso.” Yefnen produced a single Goblin gold coin, worth 50 Elso.
“My, what a young gentleman carrying such substantial funds.”
As I turned to leave with the silver change in my pocket, the attendant called out from behind me with a snickering laugh.
“Won’t you have dinner? What about breakfast tomorrow?”
I withdrew a few more silver coins and settled the account. As I turned to go again, the attendant spoke once more, her tone now openly mocking.
“Surely you can at least choose what you’d like to eat?”
We had only ever eaten food prepared at home. I had no way of knowing what to order in a place like this. I tried to respond without letting my face flush with embarrassment.
“Just bring me something reasonable, if you would.”
“Ah, I thought young masters from noble houses couldn’t stomach just any food.”
Even the servants moving about the counter began to snicker. In truth, it wasn’t particularly amusing—it was closer to outright mockery.
Yefnen felt a flash of anger but suppressed it, walking to a table and sitting down. Boris looked at his brother’s face and understood the situation, but thought it best to remain silent.
The food arrived quickly. But then a far more serious situation unfolded.
“This should be more than sufficient, wouldn’t you say?”
A servant about Yefnen’s age set down two wide bowls before the brothers. Boris peered into one. At first it resembled soup or stew. But then he saw something moving inside and recoiled in horror, pushing his chair backward. The screech of wood on floor was followed by unbridled laughter erupting from several people behind us.
Yefnen gazed quietly into the bowl. Ten… twenty…
Pale worms, each no longer than a fingernail, writhed beneath a thin gruel. It was a sight so revolting I felt the urge to vomit everything in my stomach.
“Here now, take a spoon! We’ve served you the inn’s specialty—surely you can at least taste it, even if you’re not hungry?”
“Doesn’t seem very hungry, does he? But in these difficult times, wasting food is a sin.”
“The young master doesn’t seem to know how to eat properly. Shall I feed him a spoonful myself?”
Boris lifted his head to see patrons scattered throughout the inn suddenly cackling and jeering in unison. He couldn’t comprehend it. What wrong had they committed to deserve this torment? Did these people harbor some ancient grudge?
Yet none of them seemed to be anyone he recognized…
Presently, Yefnen rose slowly from his chair.

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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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