TYND 29

“The one accused of colluding with the demons was an attendant from the barony. But my grandfather said Duke Saire Charlotte Falsen insisted that there was no reason for the people of this land to starve. She provided us with food, magitools, and even skilled technicians. At that time, we had nothing to offer in return. That’s how trade between Nymphea and Falsen began. I grew up hearing endlessly that we must repay that kindness.”

Baron Nymphea took a sip of his tea. 

“I used to resent why my ancestors didn’t repay the debt themselves and left it to us, their descendants. But now, I’m just grateful I can repay it in my lifetime. So please, no more talk of compensation. Just tell me that this great debt has been cleared.” 

Baron Nymphea smiled gently. All the others present—the baron’s steward, his treasurer, and guardian mage—wore similar expressions. Even Zey, despite her stern demeanor, was sniffling and rubbing her nose.  

Theon, who’d been lost in thought, finally opened his mouth. 

“The debt remains.”

“Your Grace—”

“Now, it’s the north that has a debt to repay.”

“……”

“If you understand the weight of carrying such a gratitude, name your price now. I don’t wish to pass this burden to Falsen’s next heir.”

The baron’s eyes widened for a moment, then gradually filled with emotion. 

“Haha…”

He laughed helplessly, shaking his head. 

“I feared you might say that… You truly haven’t changed at all.”

In the warm atmosphere that’d deepened rather than changed, the baron stroked his chin and pondered. Theon watched him, prepared to grant any wish. It didn’t take long for him to make up his mind. 

“If you insist, I won’t let this opportunity slip by. When Aephys Academy opens for summer term, would you come give a special lecture to the students?”

The academy was a national educational facility that trained knights, mages, and scholars. The empire had twelve academies in total—eight in the central region, four in the south, but none in the north. Therefore, Northerners attended Aephys Academy, the closest one. It was practically the North’s academy in all but name. 

“Is that too difficult a request?”

Baron Nymphea asked with clear amusement in his voice. 

“Your Grace, the students will be absolutely thrilled. As an academy graduate, I guarantee it.”

“If it’s a special lecture by Archduke Falsen, even the academy professors will queue up.”

The baron’s entourage, who’d been quiet through the conversation, unanimously urged Theon. Zey chimed in as well.

“You Grace, a special lecture isn’t anything grand. Just share some vivid stories from the battlefield, swing your sword a few times, and the kids will be completely in awe.”

Theon felt like he’d been caught in the baron’s trap, but he didn’t mind. 

“Very well. I’ll visit this summer.”

The baron, despite his age, clenched his fists in a victory pose after securing Theon’s consent. They moved on to discuss several trade-related matters next. Though the baron attempted personal small talk, Theon kept to the main topics, eager to return to his lodgings to see his snow-white boy. 

“Now that the war’s over, you’ll need to marry. Have you considered a prospective match?”

“It’s time for me to take my leave.”

“How cruel. I was about to introduce you to a fine young lady.”

Theon stood up abruptly, leaving the baron no choice but to follow suit. 

“You Grace, when the academy reopens in summer, you’ll send Lord Aeruhen too, won’t you?”

At the mention of ‘Lord Aeruhen’, Theon briefly thought, ‘Who?’ before quickly remembering. 

Aeruhen Viart Falsen. 

His nephew, now sixteen, and the next heir of House Falsen. 

Was it five years ago when I last saw him?

Aeruhen had travelled all the way to the frontlines, as tradition dictated that the heir must receive the seal of the current head of the house in person. A black-haired, brown-eyed boy had stood before him, holding out a stack of documents. 

‘Your Grace, it’s an honour to meet you. It’s the first time I’ve seen you since I was born.” 

“Aeruhen, there’s no need for you to come all the way here.”

“It wouldn’t sit right if I didn’t. Please stamp your seal here, and sign these too. Oh, these are for my friends—Jenna, Robin, James, and Havios. They said they’d kill me if I didn’t get your autograph.”

Bright, outgoing… quite the precocious child. 

He was eleven then, and now he’d reached the age to be called ‘Lord’ instead of ‘Young Master’. Such passages of time always gave Theon a peculiar feeling. As board the carriage and departed from the baron’s estate, that peculiar feeling gradually transformed into discomfort.

“Your Grace, you came to resolve concerns but seem to have gained new ones. What’s troubling you?”

“It’s nothing.”

Zey didn’t press further. She likely guessed the reason. 

Though Rothy and Aeruhen were the same age, they shared nothing in common—neither in their upbringing or personalities. Now they’d be living together at the archduke’s estate. 

Will they get along?

The thought suddenly worried him. 

***

On the first day of the third month, they finally entered the North. 

Theon had intended to maintain his disguise as a mercenary for as long as possible, but the moment they set foot in the North, his identity was immediately exposed. His face was far too well-known. 

The nobles who held territories in the North, particularly the heads of many viscount families overseeing lands entrusted by Falsen, rushed to greet him the moment news of his return spread. Some even came running barefoot, eager to show their respect. 

When the nobles made such an effort to welcome him, he couldn’t simply ignore them and move on. So, he dined at their estates, apologising for his prolonged absence and expressing gratitude for their steady management in his stead. Rothy didn’t accompany him to these gatherings. The grand duchess’s presence was to be revealed only after they arrived at the estate. 

Since there was no longer a need for disguise, Theon summoned the scattered members of the Black Lion Knights to reassemble and travel together. 

“You won’t believe this, but a kid in some remote village recognised my name, even though I’m just a lowly knight without a title. Out of curiosity, I asked how he knew me, and he rattled off every name in our order like he’d memorised them.”

“Children, adults, elderly—they all practically worship our lord as a god, and we’re his apostles. Honestly, no joke, we could probably start a religion if we wanted to.”

“All the blood and toil finally feel worth it. To know that people appreciate what we endured… I’d jump right back into war if another one broke out.”

The knights expressed their heartfelt emotion as they reunited with Theon. 

Throughout the long journey north, whether in villages or cities, voices praising Theon Detre Falsen, and the Black Lion Knights never ceased. While Archmage Yolone Sirin, who died fulfilling his duty, received the most mentions, Theon and the Black Lion Knights followed closely behind. For those who’d wandered the frontlines covered in blood and dust, such recognition provided great comfort. It made worthwhile all those moments they’d wanted to flee the battlefield but had persevered instead. 

“By the way, Your Grace, did you hear? The North didn’t hold any celebrations even for the emperor and empress’s coronation. They’ve been holding back.”

Even two months after the end of the war, the people of the North had not held any festivities. They were conserving their energy, anticipating the grand celebration that’d follow their lord’s return. 

But Theon was unconvinced.

“How much gold do you plan to waste? The North will not hold a festival.”

“But Your Grace, a festival’s a clear and symbolic ritual to mark the end of twenty years of war. Letting this opportunity pass would be the real waste.”

“We’ve problems ranging from the magic stone mine to the climate barriers, and heating system. We’ve enough pressing issues so stop with this nonsense.”

“Your Grace, this is about public sentiment. Forget the Great Northern Mine for now… What the Northerners want most at this moment is to celebrate their lord’s return and the end of the war with a proper festival.”

“They can feel it well enough without a festival.”

Theon remained firm, and the knights were disappointed. The Falsen loyalists would try to persuade him again at the estate, but their words wouldn’t penetrate their lord’s firm resolve. 

However. 

When Rothy casually remarked, 

“But I heard there’ll be a festival when we get to your home, Theon? That sounds fun…” 

“We’ll hold a snow festival. The Northern snow’s as white and pure as your hair. Look forward to it.”

Theon began planning the festival with enthusiasm, as if this’d been his decision all along. 

When Rothy said ‘that sounds fun,’ Theon realised that people who’d endured long darkness needed a grand gesture to give them permission to fully embrace joy again. Though his subordinates cast somewhat accusatory glances… thanks to Rothy, the North would have its festival. 

A festival would help him to adjust to a new environment.

Whenever Theon returned to their lodgings after meeting with people, Rothy was always there, waiting quietly, pure as snow, greeting him with a shy smile. But Theon could easily sense the tension and unease lurking beneath it. Rothy was suffering from separation anxiety. The problem, however, was once they returned to the estate, Theon wouldn’t have time to care for Rothy as closely.

He’d already introduced Rothy to Falsen’s retainers via paper correspondence. Though the emperor hadn’t announced it yet, he was Yolone Sirin’s only disciple and also the youngest seventh-grade archmage. Since they’d already completed an informal engagement, they were to treat her as the archduchess. 

Of course, he omitted the part about the living magic stone. 

While the Northerners wouldn’t harass Rothy, he might fear their harmless actions. Theon figured a festive atmosphere would greatly help in bonding with others. 

And furthermore. 

He’d one more measure in mind to help Rothy adjust alongside the festival.