TYND 19

Theon’s sharp gaze caught the goosebumps rising on Rothy’s thin, scarred wrist, exposed to the biting cold. The chill of the air was too harsh for bare skin to bear. Theon moved like the wind, quickly pulling Rothy’s coat back on him. 

“Stop teaching the kid weird things.” He said flatly. 

“Weird things? Your Grace, muscles are a virtue.”

“Go get ready for departure.” 

“Your cleaning freak kicked me out, claiming I’m no help.”

“Then go exercise or something.”

“Yessir.”

With a sharp bow, Xeon left to dedicate himself to his daily muscle training. Theon adjusted Rothy’s coat more snugly before turning to leave but paused when he felt a tug on his hand.  

“Theon… your hands are cold. That’s bad,” Rothy said, grabbing his large hands with his small ones, and blowing warm breaths on them. 

“Why’re your hands so cold… You’re supposed to be a muscle man…”

“…What kind of man?”

“A muscle man. Xeon said muscle men don’t feel cold.”

“……”

“Don’t tell me… Theon, did you lose your muscles? But you used to have so many… Oh no, it’s my fault, isn’t it? I’ve worked you too hard…” 

Rothy’s face crumpled, guilt written all over his expression. Theon made a mental note to warn his knight-captain about watching what he said.  “I’ve plenty of muscles left, don’t worry. And don’t believe everything that fool says. Even muscle men need coats in winter.”

“Mmhm… I know Xeon exaggerates a lot. I won’t take him seriously…” 

“Sounds like Yolone Sirin told you all sorts of things, didn’t he? What else did he say?” 

At the mention of Yolone Sirin, Rothy clammed up. He stroked the weasel in his arms, looking like a child caught in the act. Theon silently cursed himself for bringing up that name. Without a word, he lifted Rothy into his arms.  

By now, Rothy was used to being carried and instinctively wrapped his arms around Theon’s neck, wriggling into a comfortable position against his sturdy frame. The weasel, though still alert, no longer bared its teeth at Theon.  

“You don’t have to answer. I’m not curious about him.” 

“That’s not true. You must’ve a lot of questions about my master. But you’re pretending not to because I can’t answer…Theon, you’re kind, and I’m sorry…”

“I’ve told you before. Don’t apologise for things that aren’t your fault. If you keep saying sorry, it gives people the wrong idea—that you did something wrong and deserved to apologise. You need to stand tall and be confident.”

“Mmhm…” Rothy’s faint reply trailed off, but Theon knew he was listening, his sparkling green eyes betraying his intent focus on his words. 

Gently, Theon lifted Rothy onto the horse, placing the reins in his small hands. 

“Sit here while I pack things up.”

“I can help too! I can do it, really…”

“Staying still is helping.”

“Are we sleeping here tonight?”

“No. There’s a village nearby. I promise you a soft bed tonight.”

“I—… I can sleep outside. I’m used to sleeping in tents. I can sleep well anywhere…”

“I know.”

It’d been three days since they left the capital, and each night had been spent camping. Theon was well aware by now that Rothy was accustomed to it. His tiny hands had deftly slid fabric onto poles, propped up the frames, and secured the tent with precision. Evidently, Yolone Sirin hadn’t confined him to a laboratory for all six years; he’d exposed him to life in war camps as well. Perhaps there were rules about proximity or usage for a living magic stone. Theon made a mental note to investigate further.  

In any case, something about Rothy scurrying about in his thick fur coat, trying his best to help, touched the hearts of the adults, whose average age was thirty-one. Once camp was set, he’d curl up in his sleeping bag, clutching the weasel tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as if declaring, ‘Look, I can sleep anywhere, no problem at all’.

It was the same during meals. When given a bowl of warm potato stew, he’d  take only one spoonful before setting it down, saying,

“I get full quickly. I’m really cheap to raise… So I can’t finish this.”

Then he’d try to sneak the rest to the weasel, even though the creature had already been given its share of meat. 

“Me and Chi-chi only need enough food for one person. Both of us are really convenient and low maintenance…”

It was only after Theon increased the portion of meat for the weasel did Rothy finally eat his own share. 

“Don’t let go of the reins.”

“Mhm… But I want to help too.”

“Stay put.”

Theon gave Rothy’s shoulder a light pat before walking off, leaving him visibly restless while clutching the reins. At sixteen, he was old enough to be an apprentice knight. Normally, Theon was unforgiving toward apprentices, renowned for driving them through gruelling training sessions and then ordering them, without hesitation, to clean up camp even as they lay sprawled in exhaustion.

But Rothy? He couldn’t bring himself to demand anything from him. Far from it—he wanted nothing more than to see him well-fed, bundled in warmth, and fast asleep in the softest, cosiest, bed imaginable. Was it because he looked so much younger than his peers? Or was it the knowledge of the terrible experiments he’d endured? Whatever it was, Rothy stirred something in Theon he hadn’t realised he possessed—tenderness. 

Their group, seasoned from countless journeys, broke camp swiftly, packing everything in under half an hour. Soon, they arrived at the next village, a tiny rural settlement of fewer than a thousand people. Theon’s plan was to avoid large cities, sticking to sparsely populated hamlets where they’d attract less attention. This village had no guards at the entrance. Instead, the lone figure of an attendant, who’d been sent ahead to arrange lodging waved at them as they approached. 

Theon helped Rothy down from the carriage first before unloading their supplies. 

“Zey, we’re switching carriages here.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The enchanted carriage was too conspicuous, so they’d trade it for a regular horse-drawn one from this point onward. Eight robust horses, well suited for the cold, had already been secured. As they entered the village, Theon realised how neglected the area was-his boots sank deeply into untouched snow with every step. 

“We’ll need to clear this snow before we leave.” Theon remarked

“Leave it to Xeon, “Zey chimed in.

“That musclehead will shovel snow like his life depends on it. He’ll say it’s a great workout.”

“Your Grace, cleaning is obviously Zey’s domain,” Xeon retorted.

“I guarantee she’s itching to clear every flake of snow from this village.” 

“Your Grace,” Zey countered, 

“Xeon needs to run ten kilometres daily. He hasn’t had a proper run in three days, so you should give him a physical task before he explodes.” 

“Your Grace, Zey’s the type who wouldn’t just clear the snow, she’d polish the road, and probably clear the next village while she’s at it.”

Theon sighed. He should’ve separated his aide and his knight-captain. 

“Both of you will clear it together. And stop calling me ‘Your Grace’. It’s Leader.”

“Yes, Leader.”

“Understood, Leader!”

They’d barely walked a few more steps when a faint squeak, followed by a muffled thud, broke the air. Theon spun around to find Rothy buried in the snow.

“Rothy!”

Chungnip gasped beside him and moved to help Rothy up, but Theon was faster, sweeping in like the wind and scooped Rothy up in his arms. Brushing the snow from Rothy’s face and clothes with firm hands, he checked him over.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m sorry… I was just a bit surprised… Is Chi-chi alright?”

Screeee!

The weasel, buried alongside Rothy in the show, shook itself violently and let out an indignant chitter—scree, scree— directed at Theon, practically accusing him of causing Rothy’s fall. He ignored the weasel’s theatrics and brushed the snow from Rothy’s white hair, letting out a deep sigh which made Rothy flinch visibly. 

“I’m sorry… I’ll walk better…”

Hearing the fear in his voice, Theon stifled another sigh. 

“This isn’t your fault. If anything, I should apologise to you. I’m sorry.”

“Why’re you apologising, Theon?”

“Because I was thoughtless.”

Theon glanced down at the deep snow, which reached up to his ankles even with his towering 198cm frame. For someone as delicate as Rothy, this terrain was practically impassable. From that moment on, Theon carried Rothy in his arms as they continued. 

Rothy didn’t quite understand what Theon had meant by “thoughtless” but was delighted to be carried, nestling into his hold. Even the weasel calmed down, curling up peacefully in Rothy’s embrace. 

“……”

“……”

The rest of the group exchanged bemused glances but said nothing. Carrying Rothy, Theon led the group into the village.

Darac Village was a quintessential rural settlement, with a cluster of shops—general store, blacksmith, mill, and grocer—surrounding the central square. Decorations from recent celebration of the war’s end, including ribbons, ballons, and garlands, still adorned the streets. A few villagers, intrigued by the newcomers, watched them with open curiosity. There was no suspicion or wariness in their gazes—only respect.  

“Ah, you’ve arrived! Come in, come in! It’s freezing out, isn’t it? At least it isn’t snowing today,” the innkeeper greeted them warmly as they reached the inn. 

The man hesitated briefly under Theon’s imposing presence, but he quickly rallied, his cheerful tone returning.

“I heard you’re a mercenary band returning home after the Human-Demon War. You’ve all worked so hard. It’s because of people like you that we can go on living our lives. Please, make yourselves at home. The rooms are heated, and we’ve prepared a meal. Once you’ve settled your things, come down and we’ll serve you immediately. Not to brag, but my wife and I are excellent cooks!”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, not all at all! It’s the least we can do!”

The group, buoyed by the innkeeper’s hospitality, made their way upstairs to the second floor.