TYND 3

TL: Motokare

“The kid seems to really like you, for some reason, so you’ll take care of him while I look into things. You’re staying at Chloé Palace, right? Good. It’s hard to get in and out of, so it’s the perfect place to keep him away from prying eyes.”

And with that single command, the crown prince made Theon an unexpected guardian. Theon’s subordinates were fascinated. This was the most excitement they’d seen since the war ended.  

“It’s bizarre, isn’t it? A kid who feels safe around His Grace rather than terrified. Most adults feel intimidated just looking at him—so tall and dark, always scowling. Honestly, he still scares me.”

“I’d like to say the kid sees beyond appearances… but let’s be real. Our lord’s got a terrifying inner side too, so yeah, it’s honestly pretty amazing.”

Chungnip and Zey whispered, huddled against the wall. Of course, Theon heard everything. But instead of chiding them, he looked down at the child lying on the bed. Freshly washed and soft, the child peered out from the blankets with only his eyes showing. Something about the sight stirred a memory in him.

A snow fairy.

Every Northerner grew up on tales of snow fairies, and this boy looked exactly like the illustration of snow fairies in those tales—white, curly hair, clear emerald-green eyes, with skin as white and pure as new snow… Only, his frame was so small and so fragile. With the oversized bed and blankets, he looked even smaller. Theon knew the imperial blankets were of the best quality—they were thick yet light—but even so, he wondered if they might be too heavy for such a small child. 

But why’s he so happy to see us?

The child’s green eyes studied each person in the room, delighted. Five of Theon’s closest aides were present: his aide, Zeynith Orudios; Chungnip, the only mage among them; Ultje Heimyn, the chief steward who’d insisted on joining him on the battlefield; as well as his knight-captain and vice-captain. Being Northerners, they were all tall, averaging around 184 cm. Adding himself would raise it even more… And yet, the child gazed at them all with wide, happy eyes.

It’s not that he isn’t scared of me, just as Chungnip suggested.

He was definitely scared. Even now, he shrank into the blanket, clinging to it with trembling hands. But his eyes, despite the fear, held a spark of joy and… recognition? It was truly odd.

“Your Grace, the investigators have arrived.”

“Show them in.”

Zey opened the door before the servant could announce the arrival. Prince Dierm had assigned ‘PLEIN,’ the imperial mages’ organisation, to investigate the archmage’s suspicious death. Officially, it was ruled a suicide, so PLEIN’s main task was to decode the archmage’s research journals.

Yolone Sirin had never shared his research with anyone. This wasn’t unusual; the mages of the Tower tended to keep their work strictly to themselves. They also had a habit of encrypting every detail of their work, down to trivial notes—like jotting down that they made a lettuce and mayonnaise sandwich during their thirty-fourth experiment. But these were Yolone Sirin’s journals, and naturally, PLEIN, the empire’s foremost organisation of mages, would be tasked with decoding them. 

“Your Grace.”

“Lord Geelin.”

Harrié Geelin, who had assumed leadership of PLEIN at a young age after the previous head fell in battle, entered with a group of mages. Theon’s knights and PLEIN’s mages exchanged nods, but a definite tension filled the air. They eyed each other warily; Chungnip getting along with the Northern knights was a rare exception. Throughout Araxys’s long history, mages and knights had never been on good terms. Even after fighting side-by-side through twenty brutal years of war, they still couldn’t stand each other.

Harrié Geelin offered a slight smile.

“Chloé Palace must be the hottest spot in the palace. There’s already a training ground, yet you’ve turned the hallways into one too. I fear I might get burnt by the Black Lion Knights’s fervour.”

It was a sarcastic comment on the knights using the hallways for training when there were already indoor and outdoor training grounds.  Indeed, the Black Lion Knights were currently strolling the hallways shirtless, showing off their bulging muscles.

“That’s a really roundabout way of saying you’re intimidated.”

“Intimidated? I’m more concerned that your knights can’t tell the difference between a battlefield and the imperial palace. Say, would you like some air-fresheners ‘cause we’re developing a long-lasting one. You might need some for these hallways.” 

“Enough with the petty insults and get on with what you came here to do.”

Bickering like this required a willing opponent, and Harrié Geelin’s face briefly twitched with irritation before he composed himself. In truth, their tense relationship was largely due to Harrié’s one-sided wariness. Theon had little interest in either PLEIN or its leader, but Harrié envied the archduke, largely due to his own towering ambitions. To him, Theon Detre Falsen—the Northern duke, Commander of the Black Lion Knights, and an Aura master with a wartime record second only to the archmage, Yolone Sirin—was a formidable rival.

For the ambitious, he was someone to be wary of.

Harrié walked over to the bed. 

“So you’re the child.”

From the moment the mages had entered the room, the child had already hidden under the blanket. Harrié yanked the blankets down without a second thought.  It was a rough move, and Theon’s eyebrows shot up.

“Hic—”

The child whimpered, like a frightened animal, pressing his back against the wall and curling his thin frame as though bracing for a blow.

“He’s cuter than I thought,” Harrié commented, unperturbed.  

“Those emerald-green eyes… and that snow-white hair is unusual. Maybe he’s a joyboy? Seeing as he couldn’t have any, you know… children.”

“Lord Geelin, the child can hear you.” Chungnip’s voice cut in, a subtle rebuke, but Harrié was unfazed.

“Who are you? Why were you in Lord Yolone’s bedroom? What’s your relationship with him?”

“……”

“Were you serving Lord Yolone? Since when?”

“……”

“Why did Lord Yolone kill himself? And what were you doing when it happened?”

“……”

“Do you know anything about his research journals? The stuff he was working on? The magitools? We’ve searched everywhere—his lab, bedroom, the entire tower—and found nothing. Did you hide them?”

But to each question, silence was his only answer.

The boy just huddled there, trembling. It was painfully obvious he was terrified, yet Harrié seemed indifferent. 

“This isn’t working.”

He then held out his hand, and another mage quickly handed him a small vial. Everyone in that room recognised the grey liquid inside. 

“Truth serum…?! You’re going to give that to the child? It has terrible side effects! He could end up brain-damaged!”

“Hey may look like a child, but he could very well be a trained assassin. He should’ve been kept locked up, but our crown prince’s too soft-hearted.”

Chungnip looked at Theon, pleading with him to do something.  But Harrié had a point, so Theon remained motionless. As Harrié Geelin uncapped the vial, even the aide and steward stared at Theon, urging him to intervene. Still, he didn’t move. The PLEIN mages pinned the boy’s limbs with rough hands. That was when Theon finally reached, his fingers twitching. 

Overkill.

Those scrawny limbs could probably be subdued by any child his age alone, even if he struggled as hard as he could, yet three grown men pressed him down on the bed. But the boy didn’t resist, he simply looked at Theon, his long eyelashes quivering. 

Damn it…

At this incomprehensible trust, Theon cursed under his breath. In one swift motion, he snatched the vial, and Harrié stared at him in shock. He closed the vial’s cap, tossed it back at Harrié, and motioned the mages to step away. They retreated, cowed by Theon’s imposing presence.

“What’s your name?”

Theon asked as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching the emerald-green eyes dart back and forth. The child wriggled around, wrapping himself in the blanket, scooting to lean against the wall. This time he left his head uncovered, his eyes wide. He was definitely treating Theon differently than everyone else, which was ironic as Theon was the biggest, scariest person in the room. 

“What’s your name?”

The child’s lips parted, then closed again.

“……”

Theon waited patiently. He’d a feeling the boy would answer. Harrié, who’d little patience for this sort of thing, started to speak, but Theon raised a hand to silence him. Despite his pride, Harrié, as PLEIN’s leader, had no choice but to step back in deference to Theon’s higher rank.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy. Finally, Theon spoke again.

“Your name.”

“……”

The boy’s eyes travelled around the room and stopped on Theon. Theon felt certain—the boy was about to speak. Theon leaned in, knowing the answer would be faint. 

“Rothy……”

Finally, the boy spoke in a scratchy voice, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“Rothy.”

When Theon repeated it, the boy gave a small nod.