"How long have you planned to sneak out?"
Moulin chuckled softly as he felt Hadrian's breath caress his ear. On the couch, the young man rested his head on the lord's chest, comforted by his warmth and all the gentleness from his touch. After spending a long mont in the bath the High Lord brought him to, he felt clean from head to toe. Hadrian didn't forget to have lunch brought in after hearing the rumble of Moulin's stomach bouncing off the bath walls.
Moulin almost forgot he missed lunch. Snow must be enjoying the plate Ordan brought...
"Yesterday..." The youth answered, lifting his gaze to look at his golden-eyed lover. "I had almost forgotten the stone embedded in my chest, but I had secretly negated its use just until I returned to the realm."
"You sneak."
Moulin shrugged and narrowed his gaze, "I heard the expedition team will depart tomorrow?"
"Yes, preparations have finished." Hadrian paused slightly before continuing. "Why do you ask?"
Silver eyes curled slightly before the youth supported himself on his elbows, reaching out for the cloak on the table to fumble through the pockets.
"Here..." He returned, finally sitting up to straddle the man's waist once more and unwinding the strings of the small bag. Amusent danced in the lord's eyes as he ravished the sight of the oblivious youth, recalling their previous monts of ecstasy. His fingers itched to explore as they stayed on the man's bare thighs.
However, he drove his attention to the things Moulin urged to present before his eyes. There, he saw two dozen relics, carefully crafted, held in a worn pouch. A majority of two different types and, surprisingly, was devoid of magical scent. Though it wouldn't be unfamiliar given the world they were living in, it is a masterful enchantnt, only rarely done and an unlikely option to use. However, Hadrian was sure of the mana writhing within the relics, suppressed and potent.
Moulin took out three samples of each and began to explain, "These are relics I have been working on for the past weeks. And I have already tested each and I hope the team can use it for the expedition. I am certain it will be helpful for them. This is the wave relic..."
Moulin began to describe each, concisely expounding their usefulness. The wave relic should be carried near the body to ward off malibreeds, but it should be enchanted every two days to avoid shattering before its two-week expiration. Its materials are powerful but too weak to hold divine essence. On the other hand, the frost shard was a powerful healing relic. It can only be used once but even Calathe is assured that it would cure even the most dreadful injuries.
"Lastly, the arcan relic..." Moulin showed a spherical clear glass orb with a rune hollowly carved within. He could only replicate three since it was the most difficult to make out of all the relics. His eyes grew somber while he gazed down at the object in his palm. "With a mother source, I imagined it would be the most valuable weapon we could use against all things malevolent. However, for now, it is a frightful explosive that could not only take life and destroy but could jeopardize the safety of the n. I'm afraid one should only use it if necessary."
The High Lord's gaze seed scorching as they stared at the objects in the youth's hands. Moulin sounded uncertain, but to Hadrian, it was light piercing through the damp, cold walls. "They will prove their usefulness during the journey. On behalf of the n, I extend my gratitude. Your gifts will aid them well."
Moulin shrugged, "I am not too confident if they would be helpful, but at least it would aid them where magic has no place."
"I am certain they will be useful," Hadrian assured as he sat up slightly, accepting Moulin's aid for the n. "Then it is my turn to admit so news..."
The youth's silver brows furrowed. "What is it?"
"Emlen has volunteered to lead the expedition to the north."
"What?" Coldness engulfed him. Moulin's eyes widened, feeling blood rush into his veins. "How could he? It's too dangerous!"
The possibility of death was much too high! Even if he was a seasoned pathfinder, venturing the northern terrain is akin to exploring uncharted depths where death follows every turn. He could die...
"Ghana has joined as well." Hadrian continued. His tired tone suggested he had been helpless to prevent them.
Ghana? Moulin's gaze snapped to Hadrian. "Her too?"
"Yes, I understand your worries. However, these two have proven themselves several tis that they are the most capable of surviving the dangers of the journey." Hadrian explained. "They understood the risks. With them, we are confident they will progress and reach Mount Tenyur as soon as possible. And with your artifact, their chance of survival will increase significantly."
Moulin's heart pounded. Although he was more than worried about their safety, Hadrian was right. His brother and Ghana are competent and more than qualified to lead the expedition. The journey would be more promising with their involvent...
Moulin rested his forehead on the man's firm chest, mumbling his worries. Hadrian smiled faintly, comforting him within his embrace.
With a mind clouded with thoughts, Moulin secretly prayed for their safety. Tomorrow, they would depart, and it was best that Moulin impart a ssage to his friend and brother before he left later. Why didn't Ghana tell anything? Perhaps she felt it was too hurtful for to know? Admittedly, Moulin would be hurt no matter what. But it was better than knowing it too late...
On the other side of the Warrior's Barracks, Ghana sneezed, feeling a sense of guilt rush up inside her as she sharpened her blade. "..."
Moulin stayed with Hadrian for two hours, trying to catch up with the recent news happening around the stronghold and beyond its borders. He felt complicated when he knew the person who spread his na and reputation as the Lynari was none other than the rchant lord himself, Fridal Hyantor. Together with High Lord Klaria and Prince Vascilicus, they worked to use Moulin's na and uplift the people's spirits. All was well until several demonic raids occurred, causing despair and dampening the atmosphere for many days. If the Lynari was truly real, where was he?
Only when the Mage Wing made progress did hope gradually rise in their hearts. However, more questioned the credibility of the Lynari, the beacon of hope.
Moulin was perplexed by the situation. The council would never show Moulin to the public, risking his safety and progress. Perhaps the only people who truly solidified their belief were the mages from the Mage Wing.
"When you return the portal key to Ordan," Hadrian spoke as he clipped the cloak around Moulin's shoulders. "I'll have another specially commissioned for you."
Moulin nodded and swiftly grabbed the man's chin, planting a chaste kiss. His silver eyes curved captivatingly. "I'll see you again, My Lord."
Whoosh!
Moulin disappeared, leaving Hadrian standing surprised. Shortly, an amused smile graced the High Lord's lips.
Moulin appeared in his room and was greeted by a serious-looking Ordan sitting on his bed. He received a short but dreadful scolding before Ordan left his dinner and left the room to et Lord Hadrian. While Moulin went over the things in his study, he felt grateful to Ordan for making sure the ntors weren't suspicious of his brief absence. Although he wondered how the sentinel had done it, he chose not to question anything and be obedient for the next few days.
At dawn the next day, the sentinels are gathered at the steps of the stronghold to send off the promising expedition team, majorly consisting of mbers of the Silver Scepter Battalion. It was their first mission and a terribly dangerous one as well. Many doubted they would return safe and intact. Still, seeing the soldiers' dark scale-like armor and their intimidating auras, they felt their confidence that no one would be able to continue the journey aside from them.
They carried the battalion's crest along with the Lynari's mark, the silver snow-crystal plate expressing their loyalty to the beacon's ambition. Furthermore, the people noticed all were wearing a strange necklace with a crystale pendant in a wooden fra. They glanced at each other in confusion.
In a disciplined formation, they saluted before their leader, Lord Hadrian Hercullio.
"Your brother sent his regards," Hadrian spoke before Emlen Fraunces and Ghana, who both stiffened at the words. Hadrian continued, "Return safely..."
Emlen pupils quivered slightly while he kept a calm exterior before the High Lord and his n. He places a hand over the Lynari crest and promises, "We shall return with success..."
After the ceremony finished, the people watched as the n rode their steeds and disappeared beyond the gates. Lady Klaria stepped forward gracefully and spoke to the Golden Lord with a thoughtful tone. "Mount Tenyur belongs to the uncharted. Pathfinders had never dared to co near it. How certain are you that what you're looking for exists?"
"Hopeful belief..." Golden eyes narrow slightly.
.....
Within the realm, Moulin rests his chin on his palm. His fingers fiddled the the tiny chisel as he lost himself in thought. The expedition team must have left already. The prayer he cites in his heart is sincere and full of worry and hope. May the Gods guide them back... May they return fruitful...
Sighing, he places the chisel back on the pen holder and decides to continue his progress with the Arcan Relic. The thrill and guilt he felt when sneaking out lingered in his heart even as he worked under Lady Calanthe's and Ordan's watchful gaze. However, he wasn't stupid enough to try it one more ti before gaining Ordan's trust again. Thus, he stayed in his study, working diligently for hours.
The Arcan Relic would be his most useful artifact. He created it with the aim of protecting people from malevolent corruption as well as aiding soldiers against the Kron and its offspring. Moulin planned on utilizing the forbidden scroll's magic to transform malevolent energy into pure divine mana. However, he would need to acquire dark cursed energy first to test the effectiveness of the artifact.
"Young master..."
Moulin paused from his writing and looked behind to see Ordan approaching him. The man calmly gave him a black box half the size of the youth's palm. Ordan's tone was uncertain as he t Moulin's curious eyes. "Lord Hadrian passes a gift. He says you must replace the stone of the bracelet he gave you before..."
Moulin paused, nodding without taking his eyes off the box. He took it from the sentinel's hand and slowly opened it. A dark blue gem that glows when light flashes through it sits on its cushioned bed. Moulin assesses its use. A port key...
The youth smiled softly.
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