"Jagra!" Moulin yelled, alard at the sight of his friend tumbling down the stairs. Moulin hurriedly leaped, eyes narrowing as he stretched out his hand to catch his falling friend.
Crack!
The crisp sound of breaking bone sounded. The wooden railing cracked and broke. Splinters flew in the air. Moulin was in ti to catch his friend. However, he lost his footing, his heel slipping down the edge of the step. Suddenly, he felt a gust of wind brush his face.
Strong hands caught his fra, and he felt his back rest on sothing solid. The beating of a heart pressed against him.
Hadrian stabilized the both of them and glanced at the missing part of the wooden railing. They were a few steps to the top of the staircase; the fall was quite dangerous. Golden eyes stared at Moulin, assessing the youth.
"Are you alright?" He asked. His voice is soft.
Moulin nodded unblinkingly. He turned to Jagra, noticing the silence of his friend. It turns out Jagra was too embarrassed to even utter a word.
"Your friend is quite... clumsy," Hadrian said.
Moulin restrained a glare when he noticed the pause between Hadrian's words. It was quite evident for Moulin that he was trying to think of sothing not offensive to describe Jagra. Moulin ntally rolled his eyes. Jagra flinched at the High Lord's words, feeling more and more embarrassed.
Finally, Hadrian settles them back to the top floor. As Moulin carefully placed Jagra down the floor, he heard his friend hiss. His right leg was bent at an odd angle, and once could understand the pain just by looking at it. Surprisingly, Jagra was calm, only hissing at every tiny movent.
Out of the blue, three pairs of footsteps approached their location. Pola, Varick, and Sarion overheard the noise and hurried to check the situation. Perhaps, it was Ghana trying to balance her way up the stairs with several bottles in her grasp. Unfortunately, it wasn't what they were expecting. The mont their eyes fell upon the three people.
One is sitting on the floor and leaning back on the railing, one crouching in worry, and one wearing a solemn expression as he stared at the crouching person.
They froze in their place. The silence around them was hauntingly filled with shock. As though they were as stiff as statues. Varick, the calr person of the three, was more frightened.
When Hadrian's golden gaze turned to them, they forgot to breathe.
Hadrian: "..."
It was Pola who first broke the silence. Lord Hadrian might have always intimidated her. However, she wasn't afraid of him. Nevertheless, she shared the sa fear with the man: Not being able to see Moulin.
"Y-Young master!" She called and hurried to Moulin's side. Moulin began to explain what happened and was too distracted to greet the other two people in the area.
With wooden steps, Varick approached his master and bowed. "Greetings, My Lord..."
Hadrian tilted his head slightly. His expression didn't change. "I see you are imrsing in your comfort. Good for you, Varick." There was a bit of ice in his voice.
Varick could feel his palms sweat. His Lord's favorite part of the day was returning to his quarters and spending the night with the love of his life. That was why whenever the sunsets, and he still isn't finished with his work, his mood would plumt to an impossible degree. Varick had felt the burnt of it several tis already.
To think that the High Lord wasn't relaxing in his chambers but accompanying the third young master for the night. It was understandable that his master would feel spiteful.
Sarion, who was standing a few ters behind Varick, swallowed. He only hoped his father never finds out about this.
Suddenly a particular person was gleefully carrying ten bottles of wine in her arms. She grinned like a pirate captain who had successfully obtained her treasure. Ghana erged from the hall beneath the staircase while whistling. When she noticed the crowd above, her blue eyes blinked.
What did she miss?
....................
Laid on the soft chaise couch, Jagra kneaded his forehead while Pola was examining his broken leg. The feathered pillows cushioning his back and felt soft and slightly comforted his startled heart. Bruises and wounds were nothing to a full-grown maeruthan. But broken bones would take a few weeks to heal. Jagra wasn't having it.
Thus, because of his persistence, Pola had no choice but to use one of the stored healing fluids they had kept.
"This will hurt a bit." Pola reminded.
The only people in the room now were Moulin, Jagra, and Pola. The rest were thrown out of the room by Moulin. With concerned eyes, Moulin carefully observed the flinches and winced his friend would make. He felt guilty about what happened. He didn't know Jagra would be frightened, causing him to stumble down the staircase.
"Calm down." Jagra turned to Moulin. "I am not dying."
"You still have the nerve to joke around even in the state you are in? Truly, inspiring." Moulin chided. "Don't move. Stop talking."
"Yes, sir." Jagra chuckled.
Pola poured the healing fluid into her palm. It seed to glow when it touched skin. Pola began to spread the liquid on Jagra's leg. She was careful as she did so, using only two fingers to layer the viscous fluid around the calf.
Not a minute later, Jagra gritted his teeth and tossed his head back. The burning sensation felt like it was lting his skin! It felt like sothing was piercing through his flesh and plucking the broken bone. It was excruciating. He clenched his hands into fists as he endured the pain. Watching his friend dealing with the pain, Moulin grew more and more concerned.
Not long after, the pain vanished. Like it was blown off by a faint wind. Jagra went slack on the couch and sighed in relief.
"Is it finished?" Moulin asked Pola, who corked the bottle of healing fluid.
The girl shook her head. "Young master, he needs to rest for a short while. He must not move a muscle and stay still. The dicine needs to be left untouched while I find sothing to straighten his leg. Don't worry, after this. He will still be able to walk tomorrow."
Sighing in relief, Moulin nodded. As Pola left, Moulin replaced her seat and observed the sunset-colored fluid layering his friend's leg. Will it really work?
"I'll live. Why do you look so forlorn?" Jagra shook his head with a laugh.
"You're hurt. I'm sorry. I didn't ntion bringing the Lord with ."
Jagra chuckled at his friend's guilt-filled eyes. It was amusing to watch the elegant and powerful purifier maeruthan to look so pitiful, trouble by trivial things. Jagra couldn't help but smile. Moulin had saved his life before, and he would be forever grateful to him. He is a good friend, a fierce warrior. He is truly fascinating.
And after a few days, he will be leaving.
Jagra's smile gradually fell. He turned silent.
Sensing his injured friend's mood, Moulin pressed his lips together. "Does it still hurt?"
"No, it doesn't..." Jagra slowly said. His lips curved into a smile. However, it was clear that he was hiding sothing from within. This, Moulin could see.
"What's the matter?" Moulin asked.
"..."
Jagra's smile turned stiff. He raised his arm to shield his eyes and gave off a small laugh. "It's..."
"Jagra..." This ti Moulin's voice wasn't so gentle. He knelt on one knee before the couch. "What is it?"
Jagra refused to show his expression. His jaw clenched, and it appeared like he was hesitating. Dread and desperation, eating him up inside. He couldn't talk to anyone about it. But there was one person who knew about his secret.
At last, Moulin finally saw Jagra remove his arm. The man looked straight at him. Moulin stopped the mont his eyes t Jagra.
A broken voice spoke. It was cracked with a plea, a pitiful thing. Jagra spoke, eyes slightly closed.
"Take with you... to the ian Borders..."
...
It took a minute for Moulin to completely process his words. Eyes widening, Moulin spoke.
"Why?" Moulin raised his head. Confusion filled his bright eyes of silver. "The expedition is dangerous. You can lose your life if you're the least careful for even a second-"
"Please, take with you," Jagra said. This ti he rose from his seat. Eyes layered with desperation. The presence of his grief exposed itself before Moulin's eyes. His fingers are deeply clenching the side of the couch. "I am capable enough to defend myself, and I won't drag the group down.
For the past weeks, I've been studying the maps Ghana brought. All I need is approval to leave the city." He explained in a hasty voice.
"..." Moulin calmly examined the desperate look his usually calm friend was wearing. "Why?"
"I..."
Jagra paused in hesitation. His eyes quivered and his gaze gradually lowered. Moulin could see the longing in his eyes. Such deep rooted longing, driving him into desperation. Moulin could see th sa expression that he had seen Hadrian wear.
Lips pressed together, Jagra finally replied.
"I am... searching for soone."
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