“How can you be so sure that Rothy will belong to PLEIN?”

    “What? What’s that supposed to mean? If Rothy isn’t ours, then whose could he be?!”

    “……”

    “Archduke!”

    What else could they do with the only living magic stone in existence, aside from handing it over to the empire’s greatest mage organisation for research? Of course it’d be theirs. That was the only logical conclusion. Yet Theon’s attitude radiated an odd confidence. 

    I don’t think the emperor would be foolish enough to let sentimentality cloud his judgement……

    Harrié clenched his teeth so hard it felt as if his jaw might crack.  

    The tension flaring between the leaders of the knights and the mages set their subordinates on edge. Though no swords or wands were drawn, the atmosphere grew thick and frigid, the silence taut and suffocating.  

    It was Rothy who finally shattered the standoff. Tugging gently at Theon’s cloak, he murmured softly, 

    “I’m sorry… Please don’t fight because of me…”

    Harrié’s eyes wavered slightly. 

    “Theon, take me back to where you found me… Harrié will find what he wants there…” 

    This time his eyes shook noticeably. 

    He’s practised saying my name multiple times.

    There was none of the usual hesitance or awkwardness one might expect when speaking an unfamiliar name. The way Rothy said it, fluid and natural, sent an uneasy prickle through Harrié.

    Under the mounting tension, the group moved towards the place Rothy had mentioned; the archmage’s bedroom at the top of the tower. When Theon entered, the knights searching the bedroom gave brief salutes. Their questioning glances seemed to ask if they should leave, but the aide’s curt gesture told them to keep going. 

    Theon strode to the centre of the room, Rothy still in his arms. This was it—the very spot where Yolone Sirin had died. Held close in Theon’s embrace, Rothy let his gaze sweep over the room. 

    “That… the thing Ophelia just touched…”  

    Ophelia started at the mention of his name. His expression clearly asked, ‘How does that little one know my name?’ By now, Theon wouldn’t have been surprised if Rothy knew the names of every Black Lion Knight in the tower. 

    “There’s magic on that.” 

    “The hourglass? Ophelia, bring it here.”

    “Yessir.”

    The knight handed over the palm-sized hourglass. Harrié and Chungnip both stepped forward at the same time to examine it. 

    “It’s a magitool,” Harrié remarked. 

    “It’s a teleportation device, Your Grace,” said Chungnip at the same time.

    The difference in their observations was significant. While Chungnip immediately identified the tool’s purpose, Harrié’s assessment stopped short at its general classification.  

    “You try it.”

    Harrié motioned with his chin, as if giving Chungnip the go-ahead. Chungnip channelled his blue magical power into the hourglass, but nothing changed. Harrié followed with his yellow magical power, but it’d no effect either. Just as doubt began to creep in, Rothy—still held securely in Theon’s arms—reached out towards the object. The hourglass floated into his hand as though drawn by an invisible thread.  

    Clutching the device, which looked disproportionately large in his delicate grip, Rothy began channelling his own magical power.  

    “Good heavens…!” Harrié cried, his voice tinged with shock.  

    It wasn’t just Harrié; Theon, Chungnip, and even the knights were equally stunned. No matter how they’d coaxed him before, Rothy had stubbornly refused to reveal any sign of magical power. Yet now, his magical power was unmistakable—and it was colourless.  

    Chungnip’s magical power was blue, Harrié’s yellow; every mage bore a unique hue to their power. Even auras, black or white, had distinct shades, but magical power itself was more vivid, its colours as diverse as the mages who wielded it. 

    Countless mages had laboured to strip their magical power of colour, but very few had succeeded. In the history of Araxys, there’d been only three or four who’d achieved that, including Yolone Sirin. 

    And now, here it was again, right before their eyes……

    Rothy was effortlessly channelling his colourless magical power into the hourglass. 

    Fwoosh~

    The room’s lights flickered, creating an illusion, and the space shifted. Theon, ever vigilant, was the first to notice the spatial distortion. He drew his sword and tightened his hold on Rothy. Harrié followed with a magical barrier, which Chungnip reinforced with his own magical power. Only the four of them had been transported to the new location. The three, save for Rothy, quickly scanned their surroundings. 

    “This is—…!”

    It was dim, dreary and covered with dust thick enough to choke, the space looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. Shelves lined with mysterious vials, dust-covered beakers, and instrumentation surrounded the room… 

    They’d finally found it. This was the archmage’s laboratory they’d been desperately searching for. 

    “Seems only those within a three-metre radius of the hourglass were transported.” Chungnip observed, withdrawing his blue magical power. The yellow barrier encircling them dissipated as well. Only Theon remained on edge, his sword still drawn. 

    “Stay alert. Something’s here.” 

    They both sensed nothing, but if Theon said something was there, then there was. Harrié’s yellow barrier flared to life once more while Chungnip conjured blue spheres of magic, one in each hand. 

    Chungnip, take Rothy.” 

    Theon gently set Rothy down and motioned for him to stay with Chungnip. With deliberate steps, Theon advanced towards the presence he’d detected, sword glinting faintly in the dim light.  

    “Archduke, please don’t step out of my barrier.”

    Theon raised a hand, signalling Harrié to stay quiet and motioning for him to stay inside the barrier. Though Harrié had spoken without thinking, he knew it was a needless worry. Theon stepped out of the barrier. The dark, silent laboratory swallowed his movements as he rounded a pillar—

    Screech!

    A flash of white shot towards him.

    What the—!

    Instinct took over, and Theon swung his sword, barely halting the blade in time.

    Skree! Screech! Screech!

    The elusive white weasel they’d been searching for came hurtling at him with startling ferocity. Theon swiftly sheathed his weapon and deflected the creature’s attack with his cloak instead. 

    “Chi-chi!”

    Before anyone could react, Rothy burst out of the barrier. 

    Skree! 

    The weasel instantly abandoned its attack on Theon, rushing straight to Rothy and launching itself into his arms. It whimpered softly as it burrowed against his neck, trembling. Chungnip hurried to Theon’s side. 

    “Your Grace, are you alright?”

    “I’m fine.”

    “Thank goodness… But—your cloak, it’s torn?”

    His cloak, an artefact impervious to fiends’ claws, fire, or water, was now tattered and frayed. It seemed Chi-chi was no ordinary weasel. The fact that it’d activated the hourglass and gained entry into this hidden space spoke volumes. 

    “Chi-chi… I was worried. Are you fine? Or hurt?” 

    Skreee.

    “I’m fine… Did you have anything to eat? You’re not hungry…?”

    Skree.

    Rothy fussed over the weasel, gently inspecting every inch of it as if searching for hidden injuries. Chi-chi responded with soft licks to Rothy’s hands, their reunion filled with a quiet intimacy, like a family finding each other after a long, harrowing separation. Theon felt a cold sweat as he realised just how close he’d come to hurting the creature. 

    Chungnip, how do we get back?”

    “The hourglass will automatically activate the return once the sand runs out.”

    “So we’ve got an hour, then.” 

    “Yes. In the meantime, let’s take a look around the laboratory.”

    The lights flickered on just as they prepared to examine the laboratory. Harrié Geelin, with impeccable timing, had restored them using magic. Theon stepped forward, Rothy following closely behind with Chi-chi cradled in his arms. The laboratory was vast, with multiple doors leading to various sections. Harrié used his magic to open the first door. 

    What lay beyond left them frozen in collective horror. 

    “It’s as we feared.”

    The emperor’s face was as dark as the midnight sky, a heavy shadow settling over his features. Seeing the endless procession of corpses being brought out from the mage tower, he sighed. Inside Yolone sirin’s secret laboratory… were thirty-two frozen corpses of young children. Some were mutilated beyond description, while others appeared heartbreakingly normal, as if they might’ve been asleep. 

    The emperor took the headache medicine handed to him by the captain of the Imperial Guard and swallowed it with water. 

    “Considering that Faye failed after sacrificing 623 children, Yolone Sirin’s undeniably a genius.” The emperor remarked bitterly.

    “Will you make this public?”

    “How could I? It must be suppressed at all costs. It’s fortunate the foreign dignitaries have already left.” 

    They’d left the empire just yesterday afternoon. Since the Allied Forces’ final battlefield had been near the empire’s capital, they’d to stay at the palace for nearly three weeks after the war ended. With their own nations in turmoil, the empire prioritised fixing the warp system for them first, and they left as soon as repairs finished. 

    “I can’t bring myself to step into that laboratory. Archduke, you’ve seen it, haven’t you? What’s it like?”

    “It’s less of a laboratory and more of a torture chamber.”

    Haa… Damn it. If even you say that, it must be dreadful indeed.”

    The emperor was hastily summoned while preparing for bed, heaved sigh after sigh. The captain of the Imperial Guard draped a thick cloak over his shoulders, which the emperor fastened haphazardly. 

    “Still, I’ve to see it. I’m the emperor, after all…”

    Emperor Dierm, unlike the rest of his imperial predecessors, had a weak disposition. Nonetheless, he stepped into the mage tower. Theon didn’t bother to follow. Looking to his left, he spotted Rothy seated on a chair in the distance, quietly observing the recovery efforts. From the edge of Rothy’s black muff peeked a long, white tail—motionless and limp, fast asleep by the look of it. The weasel had guzzled down three canteens of water and devoured a chunk of meat the size of an adult’s fist. Noticing the tail, Rothy gently tucked it back inside the muff. 

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