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    Theon carefully lifted Rothy and settled him in before climbing aboard himself. As soon as the two were secure, the mounted knights spurred their horses into motion. With that, the Black Lion Knights were officially leaving the imperial capital.  

    With Rothy in tow. 

    “Those flagitious bastards…”

    “Master, they can hear you from this distance.”

    “I don’t care. Let them hear. They already know we’re watching them anyway.”

    From atop the imperial palace ramparts, Harrié Geelin, leader of PLEIN, glared daggers at the Falsen dukedom’s retreating procession. His subordinates stood alongside him, equally grim, but Harrié’s expression suggested he’d love nothing more than to rain down every explosive spell in his arsenal on their retreating backs. 

    “I will send Rothy to the North.”

    The emperor had casually announced during the noon banquet, where PLEIN was invited.

    Theon’s justification was airtight, and maddeningly so. If the North collapsed, the Empire would collapse with it. For three years, the North had endured a magic stone shortage. All of Falsen’s domain, from its nobles to its commoners, had suffered and persevered for the greater good.  

    However, with the discovery of a living magic stone capable of fulfilling the role of ten thousand magic stones and given that the ruler of the North was aware of this, withholding supplies until the Great Northern Mine was restored would not only incur the wrath of the North’s ruler but also spark a great sense of betrayal among the Northerners.  

    The logic’s unassailable. 

    Harrié could concede that much. After all, deciphering Yolone Sirin’s research journal would take time, and without it, they couldn’t conduct experiments on Rothy. 

    But then came the twist.

    “The archduke intends to marry Rothy.”

    The emperor had delivered this bombshell just as Harrié was sipping his orange juice. He’d nearly choked, sputtering the liquid in an undignified spray.  

    “Apparently, they’ve fallen deeply in love in the short time they’ve known each other. The way they look at each other is so passionate that I couldn’t help but notarise the union myself.”

    “You must be joking.”

    “Joking? Do I strike you as someone who’d jest about the archduke’s marriage prospects?”

    “Your Imperial Majesty, do you truly mean to hand that precious thing to the North?”

    “’Thing?’ That ‘thing’ you’re referring to is a living, breathing person.”

    “Letting the North monopolise the living magic stone’s an egregious waste!”

    “The archduke isn’t taking Rothy as a living magic stone. He’s taking him as his lifelong companion. I suggest you grasp the distinction.”

    “Hah, it’s a great love that knows no bounds.”

    Harrié ground his teeth so hard his jaw throbbed. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug expression off the emperor’s face—perhaps with a nasty pimple. But with the captain of the Imperial Guard keeping a close eye, even reaching for his staff was out of the question.   

    “This conversation’s over. I’d like to enjoy my lunch in peace now. You should do the same instead of arguing over a decision that’s already been made.”

    And with that, the ‘conversation’ had ended. No, not ended—summarily dictated. Never in his wildest imaginings had Harrié anticipated that Theon would resort to marriage. The notion hadn’t even crossed his mind. After all, he’d never thought the archduke would go to such lengths to protect the living magic stone.

    This is really strange.

    The man Harrié knew from the battlefield wasn’t someone who’d care for another. By nature, his emotional contours were flat, his feelings thin and shallow. Even in the chaos and horror of war, not once had the man been swept away by emotions. Not when his mentor died, nor when his siblings perished, nor even when his most loyal subordinates fell in battle. Not a single tear was shed. 

    People admired the archduke, praising his composure, saying he withheld his emotions to maintain morale. Harrié, however, saw things differently. Theon didn’t withhold his emotions, he simply didn’t have any to withhold. Harrié often thought—

    That man has never known rage so intense it makes your brain melt. Never felt grief that gnaws at your heart or joy that swells your chest. He’s simply an emotionless machine that slaughters demons. 

    If not for the war, people would’ve easily recognised Theon for what he truly was—a man detached from humanity, burdened with some kind of personality disorder. 

    Is it possessiveness, then? Does he simply want to bind the infinite living magic stone to the North?

    Harrié doubted this as well. If his actions were purely for the North’s sake, he wouldn’t have offered magic stones as compensation. Besides, Theon had never shown a hint of possessiveness or ambition. Someone who couldn’t feel anger, sadness, or joy wouldn’t suddenly develop greed. 

    He was a duke simply because he’d been born into the role. He held no particular attachment to the North, nor any desire to see it prosper. The fact that he hadn’t returned even once in fifteen years was proof enough of that. 

    No, he won’t keep Rothy by his side forever. When the time comes, he’ll let him go. 

    Whether it was under the guise of protection or simple possessiveness, Theon wasn’t the kind of man who’d keep anyone by his side forever. One day, he’d let go of Rothy’s hand. But by then, Rothy would no longer be a malleable child. He would’ve established himself as an archmage, firmly rooted in the North. 

    “Master, what’s our next move?”

    “For now, we’ll give them the time they need to restore the mine. If the North collapses, the Empire falls with it, and when that happens, it’d affect us as well. As much as I hate to admit it, that’s the truth. But…”

    Harrié’s lips curled into a sinister smirk.

    “Now that that treacherous bastard has left, we can get to work on the emperor. He’ll be much easier to sway—especially with that lingering guilt over not handing us the living magic stone. In the long run, this will work to our advantage.”

    “Indeed. We’ll finally be able to push through the policies that have been blocked so far.”

    “And we’ll get rid of those pesky regulations on our experiments. Let’s head inside. It’s freezing out here.”

    “Yes, Master.”

    Harrié descended from the ramparts, floating gently to the ground with levitation magic. The other mages floated down after him, their feet touching the earth effortlessly. Onlookers gawked with mouths agape, marvelling at the display. Magic was forbidden in the imperial palace unless absolutely necessary, but even the emperor would’ve to forgive this small act of defiance. 

    4. The Journey Home

    The Black Lion Knights had originally been scheduled to arrive at the duchy of Falsen on the twenty-first day of the second month. However, with a frail child accompanying them, Theon sent word via a magical paper hawk, postponing their arrival to the second day of the third month. The paper hawk glided silently across the azure sky before vanishing.  

    Home, huh…?

    While Theon had routinely allowed his subordinates to return home, he himself hadn’t set foot in his homeland for fifteen years. When he threw himself into the battlefield, he’d vowed not to return until it was all over. To uphold that vow, he’d deliberately avoided thoughts of home until the memories faded altogether. 

    For half his life, he’d lived in the shadow of life and death. 

    At some point, he resigned himself to the thought that he’d die in some foreign land. Later, he stopped caring about where or when death might find him. Even for an Aura Master, revered as a transcendent being, death was inevitable. Whether it was sooner or later, here or there, made no difference. Even when his subordinates struggled with homesickness, Theon simply observed them with the detached curiosity of a bystander. 

    And yet… 

    Even now, faint fragments of his homeland lingered in his mind. Moments, really. 

    Snow blanketing the fortress walls in pristine white, the satisfying crunch of untouched snow underfoot, and the crisp, invigorating morning air that seemed to wash away the fears and worries of the night. 

    He’ll like it. 

    Theon’s homeland was a beautiful place. Just as it’d comforted countless Northerners, he believed the serene expanse of snowy white would offer the same solace to Rothy. 

    “Your Grace, Nousbo has arranged lodging for the night. Four rooms, two people per room,” reported Ultje, who’d approached silently. 

    Their travelling party was enormous. Comprising over hundred people, including fifty-three knights, their families, squire, and attendants. Moving such a large group of people at once would cause disruptions in every territory they passed through, so they’d decided to split into smaller groups for the journey. 

    Theon’s group included Rothy, Chungnip, his aide Zeynith Orudios, his steward Ultje Heimyn, Knight-Captain Xeon Hart, and two attendants—a total of eight people. Ordinarily, Theon would’ve preferred to travel light, just him and his steward. But this time, there was Rothy to consider, he was a delicate child who needed careful care. And since he was no expert in magic, he decided to assign Chungnip, a mage, to accompany them. To prepare for any unforeseen situations, he also brought along his knight-captain and his aide for protection. With five people needed tending to, it would’ve been too much for Ultje to manage alone, so two additional attendants were added to the group.

    “Let’s move out.”

    “Yes, Your Grace.”

    Descending to the hill where the group was resting, he spotted his knight-captain, Xeon, standing shirtless in the biting winter air, proudly showing off his muscular build. Nearby, Rothy sat perched on the carriage steps, swinging his legs idly. In his arms, the weasel narrowed its eyes, watching Xeon with suspicious intensity.  

    “Xeon… aren’t you cold?”

    “My whole body’s made of muscle. Train your body like this and you can ditch those heavy winter coats, too. It’s not too late for you, either. Get training! Look at you—what are those arms and legs? They’re practically fishbones.”

    “Fishbones…”

    Xeon pushed up the sleeves of Rothy’s fur coat, revealing wrist-thin arms that indeed looked as thin as fishbones.

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