Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 83

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

Chapter 83.
The Island of the Survivors (25)
When Ryusno said he would “gather information,” he didn’t mean he’d simply wander from village to village asking questions.
When Ryusno said he would “gather information,” the quantity and precision of what he brought back surpassed what sending dozens of men could accomplish. Even Khan Commander didn’t entrust trivial matters to him—it would have been an insult to his abilities.
Had Ryusno possessed greater political acumen, he might have risen to prominence in Trabaches, a nation of politicians.
But he had no interest in orchestrating grand schemes. He executed assigned tasks with uncanny precision, yet when idle, he spent his days leisurely tending flowers or tailoring clothes. He was originally a tailor’s son.
Marinov Camb, the Second Wing, was a warrior who wielded enormous axes and collected them with fervent passion. When appearing at the palace, she wore dresses that covered her arms even in summer—her musculature was so pronounced that onlookers would flinch in surprise.
Despite having killed countless people, she retained a childlike temperament, which had evolved into the peculiar habit of binding the hair of those she’d killed with ribbons and preserving them like dolls.
The Third Wing, Tonda, was a perpetually silent man and the only member of the Four Wings not native to these lands—he hailed from Recordable. Like most people from there, his skin was dusky and his hair gray.
Though older than Marinov, he became Third Wing because he had joined Khan Commander’s service later.
He favored unusual weapons like ropes and nets, but when facing exceptionally strong opponents or when angered, he wielded a long spear with a three-pronged tip. The number of those he had pierced to death was beyond counting.
Finally, Yurichi Fredan, the Fourth Wing, was a youth who loved both mischief and play. He had a son in his homeland, though the boy was not his biological child but a child he’d found on the road. The age difference was so small that “younger brother” suited him better than “son.”
Remarkably, he was devoted to the boy, and lately he had made it a habit to say he needed to earn money.
His forte was his nimble body, swift feet, and a flail he spun like a pinwheel. Even his comrades wondered how such strength could emanate from his slender frame.
“We understand that someone else has been assigned the same task.”
When Ryusno asked cautiously, the other three grew somewhat tense.
But Khan Commander answered as though it were of no consequence.
“That’s right. None other than that child’s Uncle.”
Ryusno pressed further without hesitation.
“Is his performance unsatisfactory?”
“Heh, that man has work suited to him in his own way. He’s done well so far thanks to the advantage of blood relations, but it’s now clear that child has a guardian, so I believe you can do better. He’s produced meager results relative to how long I’ve entrusted him with the task.”
But Khan Commander’s thoughts didn’t end there.
He considered Blado Jineman a useful man, yet because he had once betrayed his previous master, he couldn’t trust him completely.
While he’d praised his past achievements and even given him a manor in Ron to keep him close, it was natural to gather leverage against him as insurance. Khan Commander was a typical Trabaches man through and through.
This task seemed destined to become an assault, so these “Four Wings”—assassins rather than strategists—had a greater chance of success. Thus far, the Four Wings had never failed an assigned task.
So he would set them in invisible competition and hold the failing side accountable. Either way, he could use it as pretext to bind them with greater loyalty.
“I understand.”
Ryusno’s plainness was far removed from Khan Commander’s duplicitous calculations. This man was truly uncharacteristic of Trabaches.
Marinov asked.
“May we kill the child?”
Khan Commander shook his head.
“No, that won’t do. Bring that one alive. Don’t inflict too many wounds either. We’ll need to make him reveal the whereabouts of another treasure. You’re free to kill anyone else. But if there’s anyone who might serve as a hostage, bring them alive.”
Inflicting many wounds would diminish the effectiveness of torture. Marinov pouted her lips and spoke.
“So in the end, we can’t kill anyone? How disappointing.”
“Kill those without hostage value instead. I’ll defer to you on that.”
Yurichi chimed in from the side with an innocent expression and a giggle. Yet this young man too had killed more people than his own age in years.
Marinov laughed sharply.
“Can we trust that promise?”
Ryusno and Yurichi departed for Lemme that very night after completing their preparations.
Though they were ordinarily quite lazy, once assigned a task they wouldn’t delay even a moment. This was precisely why Khan Commander only summoned them when he truly felt the time was ripe.
Jonggenal, the Khan Commander’s mage, brought the two of them to the border of Anomarad in a single breath.
It took exactly seven days from when Ryusno and Yurichi arrived at the Rosenberg Gate until they began their investigation.
The boy once called Boris, Daphnen, walked along a hill where leaves drifted down in cascades. His lessons with Scoli had ended, and today Isolet had other matters to attend to, so he’d decided to take the day off.
Reaching the hilltop, he paused and glanced around. The person he was supposed to meet was nowhere to be seen.
After taking a few more steps, something caught beneath my feet. I looked down to find two shoes tumbling about in the grass.
Only then did I grasp the situation, and with a knowing smile, I picked up the shoes and searched through the nearby bushes. As expected, Nauplion lay oblivious to the world, lost in an afternoon slumber.
“Lazy Priest, your first disciple has arrived!”
Lately, I had come to enjoy speaking in this manner.
Becoming Nauplion’s formal disciple had not brought only inconvenience. Deep down, I was pleased to be acknowledged as a student. Though Nauplion was busy handling accumulated tasks and I rarely had the chance to practice swordplay as I once did.
It was not vanity born from others’ jealousy. The fact that Nauplion, who had refused even to be called teacher, had accepted me—that alone was enough. And besides, spending time with him was genuinely enjoyable.
“Mmm… ‘Lazy Priest’? That’s too much, you disrespectful disciple. Your master must take another nap to recover from his arduous duties.”
His complaints were not mere pretense. He had only recently returned from visiting each of the four islands to assess their conditions, and now he had begun investigating the village’s defensive preparations.
Surveys of supplies, including weapons and provisions, could hardly suit Nauplion’s temperament. Repeating tedious work, he had grown exhausted these days.
“Then I’ll wait here for a moment.”
Nauplion shifted his body and murmured.
“Being a Priest of the Sword is quite an exhausting profession. If anyone asks you later whether you’d do it, tell them absolutely not.”
I answered without thinking.
“Yes? Yes…”
And so Nauplion fell asleep again, while I sat in the grass with my legs stretched out, gazing down the hillside lost in thought.
The wind’s blunt fingers traced lines across the overgrown grass here and there. Or perhaps a long skirt hem swept past.
When the wind blew, my shortened hair would flip back and scatter. I found myself thinking of someone else whose hair had once done the same.
I drew Winterer from its sheath and gazed at it quietly. I considered pulling it out a little, then changed my mind and left it as it was.
Yesterday was when I finally learned my first chant from Isolet.
Of course, I could not infuse it with magical power as Isolet did, but I had memorized its structure. Someday I too would learn to sing the songs of magic. I might not be an excellent student, but I had always been a diligent one.
Though I did not yet understand its meaning, I recited it softly to myself.

The pearl in water, the world within it
The magic within you, the song within it

What is lost shall be abandoned forever, becoming sacred and clear

“Did Isolet teach you that song?”
Nauplion, whom I thought was asleep, asked. His voice sounded distant, muffled as it was by his head buried in the undergrowth.
“Yes.”
“It’s a chant from Klazanya.”
“What is Klazanya?”
Nauplion suddenly sat up, raising only his upper body.
“It’s a place name. A location from the Old Kingdom.”
Then he asked again.
“So she really does teach you. Are you getting along well with Isolet?”
It was merely a simple question, yet my cheeks flushed slightly in that instant. Fortunately, I was sitting with my back turned toward Nauplion.
“We’ve grown much closer.”
“That’s fortunate.”
After a brief pause, Nauplion continued.
“When I introduced you to Isolet, it was half for your sake and half for hers. You probably understand what I meant by your sake, but Isolet doesn’t interact with people much. It wasn’t always that way.”
Seizing an opportunity to ask something I’d been wondering about for a while, I spoke up.
“Do you know Isolet well? Do you understand why she acts that way?”
Again, Nauplion fell silent. But unlike usual, after a moment, he began to speak.
“Isolet is the only daughter of the late Priest of the Sword, Ilios. Her father was… a man of such extraordinary talent that it’s difficult to express in words. His swordsmanship was unparalleled, but whether it came to scholarship or the arts, there was nothing he couldn’t do. He was the finest lyre player and composer, and his skill in painting was matchless. He was versed in architectural design and left many sketches for posterity. He was a philosopher, a historian, and even proficient in mathematics—a discipline that has nearly vanished.”
Nauplion’s voice was calm, yet it carried genuine reverence.
“There was probably no one during his lifetime who didn’t respect him. Even The Regent bowed his head to his learning and insight. Yes, one might say he was a true genius in the fullest sense. Even searching through the entire long history of The Island, it would be difficult to find another genius of his caliber.”
In Nauplion’s voice lay both admiration and a hint of longing, and I found myself feeling something strange.
It was a side of him I had never seen before, and among all the new facets Nauplion had shown me, this was the most astonishing.
To everyone except me, Nauplion was either arrogant or unassuming—one or the other. Even before Priestess Despoina, he was scarcely humble.
“You said you’ve been to the Library? The only other person besides Zero who could have read all those books would have been him. Zero, being called the Sage of the Tree Tower, was his close friend.”
If he had been Zero’s friend, they must have been of similar age. That meant Isolet’s father had died quite young.
“The two of them worked together to try to recreate the magical machines that supposedly existed in the Old Kingdom, but they failed because there were no skilled mages. The only thing the two of them successfully created from the Old Kingdom’s artifacts was that Library itself. Beyond that, there were things like creating wings that could fly through the sky…”
For some reason, this reminded me of the airship from Ganapoli.
“Since his position was Priest of the Sword, he took disciples in swordsmanship, but everything else he passed down only to his daughter. The Sacred Chant Tradition that Isolet teaches was also inherited from him. One of his remarkable achievements was composing several new chants. Not just chants, but creation itself has nearly ceased since leaving the Old Kingdom…”
Considering how Nauplion usually spoke, this explanation was even lengthy. When discussing Ilios’s accomplishments, he seemed unwilling to abbreviate even a single achievement.

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