Orchaedia?
The youth's brows furrowed. His eyes assessed the intricate fonts of the pages and the na filled his mind with curiosity.
Lady Calanthe appreciated the inquisitive look worn on the young man's face. Her voice is filled with softness, soothing Moulin's nerves. "Orchaedia is an ancient practice, born from the wisdom of the maeruthan's forebears, and guided by the teachings of our gods. In tis long past, when we were devoted solely to nurturing and protecting, evil strayed far from the light.
The higher realms were more benevolent before the rise of human intellect, granting us a ans to connect with higher spirits and communicate with the divine."
Moulin's gaze returned to the text, his silver eyes shining with newfound interest under the warm light.
"But as our knowledge and desires expanded, we drifted from the favor of the gods. Though so have sought to restore harmony, they remain ensnared by their own pride and selfishness. A mortal can never beco a god," Lady Calanthe said, her eyes wistful as they lingered on Moulin's calm deanor. "What remains of their teachings is preserved within the books of Orchaedia.
These texts will allow us to delve into the realms of artifice with divine magic—an endeavor never before undertaken by humankind."
Her words made Moulin's heart pound. Hesitance and confusion filled his face as he spoke. "But divine magic? ? I do not even know where to siphon such energy. I am not a priest."
"Such matters are not always bound by traditional roles. You possess the power within your own mana, and you are neither priest nor worshipper," She declared.
It took Moulin a mont to process her words. "Then... An artificer... I haven't even tried..."
Lady Calanthe shook her head. "In the face of our limited resources, mastering every discipline is not our aim. Just as one match is sufficient to kindle a fla, so too is your burgeoning talent enough. My dear, you will hone this craft and serve alongside our soldiers. In tis of conflict, there is no place for hesitation."
Moulin swallowed, returning his gaze upon the old pages. He couldn't believe he would be practicing from an ancient text that nobody has ever had tried. He felt thrilled but at the sa ti... doubtful. Would these teachings truly help?
Clap!
Moulin jumped in his seat, startled by the sudden noise.
Lady Calanthe bead and stood up, "Now, I'll give you so ti to read and by tomorrow morning. We shall see how far we can go."
Moulin blinked with a mont of confusion. He glanced at the book and was about to get up when the sorceress stopped him.
"No, no, no. Read. "
"Um, by myself?" Moulin stuttered, glancing between her and the book.
Lady Calanthe revealed a look as though she couldn't understand him. "Oh, yes. You're very capable of reading ancient texts by yourself. Acquaint yourself with the knowledge, feel it. And by tomorrow morn, we will return and our lessons will begin."
...
When Moulin nodded, the sorceress revealed a tender smile before she headed towards the door. With a snap of her fingers, the staff and hat she left were instantly worn on her. She gave Moulin one small wave with her staff before shutting the door.
Left alone in the warm library, Moulin withdrew his gaze. His fingers gently caressed the book's thick pages.
Outside the room, Lady Calanthe unhurriedly walked through the hallway before Na'El's and Lady Celeste's figures erged from another corridor. All three of them stopped and exchanged a polite greeting.
"How did it go? " Na'El asked.
"You were right." Lady Calanthe sighed. "Though he appears uncertain, he possesses a remarkable gift for deciphering and understanding ancient runes and texts—an ability he himself is unaware of. His essence is both foreign and yet strangely familiar. Truly, he is deserving of the blessings of Gala'En."
"His fate is far from hopeful." Lady Celeste spoke while the three of them began to walk towards the abode's key portal. "Tomorrow, we must ensure progress. The court shall be waiting for a report. Many arrangents are yet to be made. We must make haste."
Na'El shook his head, "The young master is quite pitiful to be burdened by such a great responsibility."
.....
A few hours later, Moulin finds himself on his bed, wrapped in cozy blankets, near the lamplight of his bedside. The warm light illuminated his focused countenance and the crisp sound of turning pages filled the room. A little white furball was curled at his side, snoring faintly.
Despite feeling a bit drowsy, Moulin continued to read. Occasionally, his sleepiness would dissipate whenever sothing intriguing caught his eye, like the current passage about magical reservoirs and conduits forged with divine energy.
The text explained how these were not only integral to daily life but also intertwined with other spells, creating a complexity that made them challenging to unravel.
Combining with divine magic turned out to be far more intricate than rging with mana. The practice was too mysterious and not all could test it. Only those graced by the divine could access such heavenly power. Soone whose souls remained eternally faithful to the deity's values and principles.
This left the young man puzzled, as he couldn't fathom how he had co to wield such divinity without pledging his allegiance to any of these Gods.
The only one he had ever known was Morhas. But could he still be considered a God? Half-born and hated. Pitiful and lonely. Left for dead and used like a puppet? Moulin could sense his profound misery and desperation, akin to a man teetering on the brink of death, his sanity precariously hanging by a thread.
Was this why his soul was chosen?
Moulin paused.
'Perhaps... was it because of my will to end my own life?'
Was I chosen because I share the sa damnable fate?
A wave of sadness engulfed his whole body. He felt cold piercing tightness within his chest, swallowing him whole. His fingers trembled slightly. A foolish decision but not one he had co to regret. Not anymore.
Moulin closed his eyes to shake the thoughts out of his head. He shifted in his bed and stopped when he felt Snow whining in his sleep.
"You are still awake?"
A deep familiar voice caught Moulin off-guard. The youth's eyes imdiately snapped towards the source of the voice and saw tall and handso Hadrian approaching the bed with slow steps. He was dressed gracefully befitting his status as High lord of Helios and a significant military force of the Royal Council.
"You are finally here. Took you quite a while..." Moulin spoke as he watched the man take off his neat elegant outer clothing revealing a white inner shirt highlighting his physique beautifully. Moulin swallowed feeling a little parched. He looked away.
"When did you arrive?"
The golden lord was calm and there was grace in his movents. His long fingers reached for the crystal pitcher. He poured a glass of water before making his way towards the bed. Moulin's eyes never left his form.
"Only monts ago," he answered, handing the glass to the youth.
Moulin blinked. He smiled faintly before taking the cup. The cool liquid moistened his lips as he took a few gulps. He sighed, "Perhaps, you were busy. You didn't have to co."
"Oh, but I want to." A corner of the man's lips rose. There is a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You wished I would co sooner."
Moulin cleared his throat, not denying anything as Hadrian put away the cup in his hands. The bed dipped with the lord's weight.
Hadrian assessed his expression carefully, "How are you adjusting? Do you feel comfortable?"
Moulin lowered his head and murmured, "It's more comfortable than I thought. It's spacious enough but not too overwhelming and the realm has everything I essentially need. And..."
"And?..."
Moulin lifted his head with a raised eyebrow before helplessly smiling. "I love the garden. It's beautifully done."
Hadrian inched closer. His prominent features are undeniably more striking in Moulin's eyes. His golden eyes, magnetic and piercing, seem to capture the warm light of the room. "Mn, I am glad you appreciate my efforts. What would the young master reward ?"
Moulin snorted and rolled his eyes. Out of the blue, he leaned to give an endearing and brief kiss on the man's lips. "Thank you for your hard work."
Hadrian paused. His eyes widened slightly. It seems he was really surprised. Imdiately, an alluring smile graced his face and Moulin felt like crawling into the blankets.
The man didn't linger long in the bed and Moulin waited as Hadrian went to freshen himself. It seems he would be staying the night with him. Moulin turned to fix the pillows and the little furball by his side groggily woke up, walked over Moulin's lap, and flopped at his master's side. Snow was asleep in seconds.
"What is this?" Hadrian eyed the thick old book on the youth's lap. It was half the length of Moulin's thighs and looked truly unrefined against his silken nightgown. Hadrian positioned himself beside Moulin.
"My howork," Moulin responded as he gently caressed the pages. "Orchaedia..."
Hadrian stopped. He looked surprised. Such an extrely rare and powerful book was being read by the youth.
Amused by his reaction, Moulin's silver eyes curved into crescents. "Does it surprise you that much? I didn't even know this existed until now."
Moulin narrated his whole day to the patient man beside him. He told him about Lady Calanthe and a few of his activities within the realm. He concluded with a brief account of the events in the library. Hadrian listened intently, his expression soft, more captivated by every subtle change in the youth's serene face than the words themselves.
"That's why I must study this book by morning. Perhaps there will be a test to gauge the extent of my abilities in artifice."
"Must you deprive yourself of sleep?"
"Please, I have rested enough today." Moulin shook his head.
He and Hadrian discussed several important matters before deciding to rest. The lamp's light dimd, but not so much that they couldn't see each other's faces. Snow had settled at the foot of the bed, curled up comfortably.
"What happened while I was away?" Moulin whispered, his voice as gentle as the night breeze. His head rested on Hadrian's arm as he nestled in the man's embrace while turning the pages of the book.
A few wisps of golden hair draped across Hadrian's forehead, their tips gently veiling his eyes and lending him a more relaxed and youthful appearance. The man gazed into Moulin's eyes.
"The council has reached a montous decision: to create a powerful symbol to stand against our demonic adversaries. Not only will it strike fear into the hearts of our enemies but also ignite a beacon of hope within our people. They have chosen you to be the living embodint of our cause, the driving inspiration for our soldiers."
Moulin stopped. He shifted, raising his head to et Hadrian's eyes as the gears in his brain worked silently. Finally, he spoke. "A new military force?"
Hadrian revealed a smile. "It is what you think."
"Who shall lead it?"
"You are looking at him," Hadrian responded.
They would not rely appoint Moulin as Savior; they also intended for the Golden Lord to command a contingent of specially trained soldiers, symbolizing their stand against the encroaching darkness. Moulin's slender brows furrowed in concern. Did this an he would soon be separated from Hadrian?
"Why? When will it be implented?"
Hadrian responded slowly. "This order will be sent out to scour the lands infected by the Kron and purify it from malibreeds and malevolence. It has already begun. The initiative started today and is spreading throughout the stronghold. Varick has already submitted profiles of potential candidates.
They will undergo rigorous assessnts and trials, and I will personally select the final mbers of the Order."
Moulin abruptly rose. His movents made Hadrian reveal a questionable look.
Silver eyes are brimming with emotion. "How long?"
"..."
A rough hand reached out to hold the youth's pale cheek. Moulin remained still, waiting for his response.
"I don't know," the lord finally replied, his voice tinged with a helpless, wistful tone. "But I will co back as often as I can. The cause is important, but there is no way I will leave and not return. I will always co back to your side. We must be strong, both of us."
Moulin was reluctant. Perhaps, it was because he was used to having Hadrian close that he should not feel any fear and burden of being targeted. Or was it because he could not accept that he could not fight by the lord's side in his expeditions?...
Either way... he will not be by Hadrian's side. He will be too far away, hidden. The tightness in Moulin's chest ached considerably.
"I will work hard." Moulin expressed heavily. His bright moist pupils quivered but were filled with strong determination. "... to make sure you can be safe and victorious."
Hadrian gazed into the youth's eyes. He felt the bond between them pulse into life, buzzing with strength. He could not help but reach forward and press his lips against Moulin's. It was soft and tantalizing. With a faint smile on his lips, he whispered against the touch as Moulin closed his eyes, "I am looking forward to it."
Moulin nodded slightly.
Our souls are intertwined so deeply that no corner of this world can ever keep us apart
User Comments
0 comments from readers