TYND 5

TL: Motokare

The Boy In The Tower (5) & The Northern Archduke (1)

“Yes, it appears Lord Yolone used that magic stone in his research and harnessed its power to perform such formidable magic. This journal is, in fact, a study on the magic stone itself.” 

“And he’s been using a single magic stone freely for six years? Even the magic stones from the Great Northern Mine are depleted after a month at most… This is truly a magic stone capable of altering the history of Araxys. We need to locate the connector magitool immediately. It must be in the mage tower.”

“We’re currently searching the tower, but we haven’t found the magitool. And… that’s not all.”

Harrié’s expression twisted into a dark smile. 

“Lord Yolon named the magic stone ‘Rothy’. Coincidentally, the child found in his chamber is also named ‘Rothy’.”

The child and the magic stone shared the same name. A heavy silence fell as everyone in the chamber sensed a looming unease. 

“The magical power within the magic stone, no matter how strong, dissipates within an hour if not connected to a magitool or utilised through magic. That’s why they’re so rare to find. And even if you’re fortunate enough to locate one, finding a way to sustain its magic power production’s indefinitely a greater challenge.” 

“Indeed. Magic stones don’t generate new magical power unless they react with a living being.” 

“Precisely. In the past, a certain mage experimented by implanting magic stones into humans. Your Imperial Highness, I’m sure you’re familiar with it.”

The crown prince let out a deep sigh. 

“You’re referring to Faye’s human experiments……”

The human experimentation conducted by Faye was one of the darkest chapters in the history of Givarche, occurring about a century ago. For ten years, the dark mage Faye Tilte kidnapped impoverished children and attempted to implant magic stones into their bodies. As a result, over 623 children perished as victims of those inhuman experiments. 

When soldiers eventually raided Faye’s hideout after a tip-off from nearby villagers, they encountered a truly harrowing sight. Children with twisted limbs, bulging eyes, skin marred by abscesses lay before them; bones jutted through flesh in grotesque angles… The bodies of deceased children, deformed beyond recognition, were strewn about. The horrific scene etched itself indelibly into the minds of many soldiers, leaving them scarred and traumatised for life.

The atrocities Faye committed had starkly revealed the inherent perils of human experimentation, leading to its universal condemnation and eventual prohibition across the Western Continent. Such practices were forbidden even for those sentenced to slavery through crimes.

“Are you saying Lord Yolone conducted human experiments?”

“It seems highly likely.”

“But he could simply be a servant. Or maybe he really is his disciple…?”

“There’s a theory that the age of ten’s the most optimal age to preserve the pure magical power of a magic stone.”

“I know. All 623 victims of Faye’s were ten years old.” 

“When I measured Rothy’s physical age with magic, it was estimated to be sixteen. If the experiment started six years ago… and were successful, it would align perfectly with Rothy’s age.”

The crown prince released a pained groan. But even in this grave situation, what passed through Theon’s mind was ‘Is he really sixteen?’. 

“It’s too early to jump to conclusions. No one has ever succeeded in implanting magic stones to a living being, and it’s hard to believe Lord Yolone would’ve done such a thing to a child. Granted, he was sensitive, short-tempered, and occasionally eccentric, but he was also a comrade who fought alongside us for justice. I believe in the Lord Yolone I knew. Besides, all we’ve learned from this research journal’s that the magic stone and the child share the same name.”

The crown prince’s tone showed his struggle to accept the implications. Understandably so—Yolone Sirin was celebrated as the hero who’d led them to victory in the war. His death had only cemented his place as one of the empire’s most revered figures. Any accusations that could taint his legacy required the utmost caution and delicacy.

Theon, however… 

“So that’s why he left a note stating he’ll carry all the sins with him.”

“Archduke Theon! What’re you saying?! This is Yolone Sirin we’re talking about.” 

To Theon, the appellation ‘Yolone Sirin’ held little sway. He’d fought alongside the man and helped each other in battles, and Theon also trusted his abilities, but as a person… 

Well…… 

He was an enigma. 

Even Theon, who was known for being cold-blooded, found Yolone Sirin to be twice as ruthless. And yet, at times, he seemed even more compassionate than the crown prince, who was widely regarded as kind-hearted by many. In life, as in death, Yolone Sirin, remained a mystery. 

The crown prince groaned again, pressing a hand to his forehead. 

“Please, both of you, let’s not rush to judgement. Lord Geelin, did you sense any magic from Rothy?”

“There was no outwardly detectable magical energy, Your Imperial Highness. Though if he wished to conceal it, it’s possible to hide it. To confirm if a magic stone was indeed implanted in him, we’ll need to run the Tremuhle. For that, I require your authorisation.”

“Very well. I permit it. Get the Tremuhle running. When can we expect the results?”

“The reaction stone will be ready in five days, Your Imperial Highness.”

“That’s after the coronation, then. I suppose that’s fortunate. Continue decrypting the research journal and search for the connector. But above all else, ensure that none of this leaks beyond these walls.”

“Yes, Your Imperial Highness.”

“Alright, that’s it. Done. My head can’t take anymore. It hurts.”

The crown prince declared the end of the audience and stood up. The PLEIN mages scurried out like mice. Theon was also leaving when the crown prince called out. 

“Archduke, let’s have dinner together.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? It’s not like you’ve anything better to do.”

“I just found something to do.”

“Really? What is it?”

“Weasel hunting.”

“What?”

Leaving the bewildered crown prince behind, Theon strode out of the hall, his aides trailing in his wake.

“Your Grace, do you truly believe… that Lord Yolone conducted human experiments?” Zey asked anxiously. 

Theon gave no answer, but Zey hadn’t expected one. Chungnip and Zey trailed him silently, their minds in turmoil. They followed him without knowing where they were going until Theon left the castle and entered Yolone Sirin’s mage tower. Only then did Chungnip speak.

“Your Grace, why’ve we come to the mage tower? You said you were going to hunt weasels.”

“I was going to grab any weasel from Gretin Forest, but that won’t do. I need the one from two days ago.”

Chungnip flinched in surprise, then let out a laugh of relief. 

“So you already knew I let that weasel go.”

Two days ago, rather than tossing the weasel out from the thirtieth-storey window, Chungnip had secretly released it inside the tower. 

“Of course, you fool. His Grace knows you don’t kill animals. That’s why he told you to handle it. If he’d wanted it dead, he would’ve asked the knights to handle it.” 

Zey clapped Chungnip on the back with a laugh. 

Theon ordered the tower’s guards to search for the weasel as well. The mage tower bustled with mages searching for artefacts related to the magic stone, while the knights prowled every corner, hunting for the weasel. But as night crept in, neither party had succeeded in what they were looking for. That damn weasel must’ve slipped out of the tower. 

For the first time since the war’s end, Theon felt a nagging anxiety twist in his gut. If it was true that the boy had been a subject of twisted experiments ……

“Always… together… but now gone…” 

The weasel had probably been his only solace in a life full of pain and horror. 

“Please… find…”

He’d thought about scooping up any random weasel and calling it done. But now, knowing what he did, that wasn’t an option. Theon had to return the weasel, named Chi-chi, to the boy. 

The Zibiah Empire boasted three ducal houses, and unlike in other kingdoms where dukedoms were tied by blood to the royal family, these houses had no relation to the imperial bloodline, and were instead descended from those who’d made significant contributions during the empire’s founding. 

House Falsen was one of these venerable houses, and for countless generations, the position of chief steward within its ranks had been dutifully upheld by members of the Heimyn family. At the age of twenty-eight, Ultje Heimyn swore an oath of lifelong service to the newborn heir of House Falsen. In that moment, he could never have imagined that the tiny, soft bundle he held would one day lead him onto the battlefield.

When war erupted as Theon turned ten, it dragged on for five relentless years, claiming his parents’ lives along the way. By fifteen, he’d become an Aura Controller and made the decision to join the war. On the morning he was set to depart, Theon sighed heavily when he saw his chief steward, meant to stay behind at the estate, packing his belongings and clambering into the carriage. 

“Ultje, you barely know any self-defence. Where do you think you’re going?”

“How could I let my young lord go to a war against demons alone? Though I can’t wield aura, I can cook a mean meal. Leave your meals to me from now on.”

Despite Theon’s repeated protests, Ultje wouldn’t budge. Just as the Falsens were famed for their stubborn nature, so too were the Heimyns who served them.

And so, in the end, Ultje followed his young lord to the front lines.

Theon fought with reckless abandon, tearing through battlefields with an almost demonic ferocity. Over time, became a revered hero, admired by knights far and wide. He was now a man whose imposing build and honed muscles made even the proudest warriors hesitate. Jet-black hair, fierce brows, eyes the colour of blood that seemed to snare you if you stared too long. A sharp nose and jawline that looked carved from stone. 

Thirty might be considered past marriageable age, but war was an exceptional circumstance. Now that peace has come, marriage proposals will flood in.

Ultje had looked forward to returning to the estate. He’d envisioned himself responding to countless invitations, organising a celebratory homecoming, personally sampling and choosing each dish while selecting the perfect venue. And in the years to come, once the archduke met a worthy match, married, and had a child, that future heir would be served by Ultje’s own adopted child, continuing the proud legacy of the Heimyns serving House Falsen.

Those were the sweet dreams he’d dreamt.  

But instead…… 

“No one’s going to take it from you. Eat slowly… Oh, you’re already done.”

Ultje clucked his tongue as he took the empty bowl from the child. In his youth, he’d been a squire scrambling between battlefields in service to his lord. Now, at fifty-eight, he found himself cast in an unexpected role of a nanny to a boy named Rothy—a boy who might’ve been a subject of the archmage’s experiments.