The sound of chatter filled the barracks as n from all ranks rushed out, brimming with excitent. The night was filled with strange enthusiasm. Ghana, who had just returned from training, saw the scene. In the next second, a group of n screeched to a halt, hurriedly saluting in fear.
The female captain let them go with wary eyes. She turned to her right hand after watching the n scurry away. "What is the commotion all about?"
The officer froze briefly before responding. "I heard from the others that Lord Hadrian Hercullio would be selecting the first draft of warriors for the Arcan missions."
Blue eyes widened instantly. "So it was today?!… "
Before she could run, her officer anxiously stopped her. "My Lady! Lord Hercullio strictly exempted you from the selection! Your rest hasn't finished!"
Ghana gnashed her teeth and threw him off in anger. "You think I forgot?! I'm going to see the trials! See if I let them sleep a wink if they fail before Lord Hercullio's eyes!"
The officer sighed as he watched his superior run away. He internally pitied his fellow sentinels… and himself. Lynari's na… well, it wouldn't hurt to accompany her.
…..
"Hah… Hah…."
A man stood weakly as his hands clenched around the grip of his sword. Sweat layered his forehead as he endured the oppressive aura surrounding him. His opponent, a man taller and stronger, stared at him, determined for victory.
More n gathered around the fight platform. Bright torches illuminated the entire area, exuding a heavy atmosphere. It was the last fight. The final battle always brought more excitent and anticipation.
North of the platform, where many avoided the crowd, stood none other than Lord Hadrian Hercullio, watching the fight intently. Accompanied by his trusted n, he assessed the fight, determining the probable winner.
In the next instant, the opponents wasted no ti and charged each other. Steel clashed against steel, and the arcan relics in their hands buzzed to stabilize their trembling energy. Their gazes burned with resoluteness!
Clang!
A spear spun in the air before fiercely plunging into the earth, loudly. The smaller knight held his opponent with the blade next to his neck.
Silence briefly filled the area before cheers rang in the air!
The winner was concluded.
…
"The draft has finished, Your Excellency…" Varick spoke, offering the list of nas to the Golden Lord standing solemnly on the terrace. His eyes dazed emotionlessly towards the n leaving the grounds.
"…" Hadrian took the sheet, glancing at it briefly. Varick swallowed, secretly observing him.
There was sothing about the man that Varick couldn't point out. There was a change. It obviously wasn't his appearance. No, he looked impeccable as ever… Lord Hadrian exuded an otherworldly aura, a dominance filled with strength. But it was almost arrogant.
Varick has never sensed this from his lord before.
"Gather them tomorrow and brief them on the mission."
"Yes, Your Excellency…"
…
The final draft was made, sending a wave of exhilaration throughout the Silver Scepter barracks. But the news didn't stop there; words were exchanged from servants to the lords residing within the stronghold. The Silver Scepter's first mission was to eradicate the malibreeds surrounding Ralor and protect the base.
They weren't just sending warriors, but sentinels equipped with the Lynari's blessed artifacts. Brimming with divine power which any living thing born from malevolence fear, it will spread pure mana, empowering soldiers and protecting lives.
The news not only filled the people's spirits with determination but also sparked hope. Just a few weeks ago, they thought they would never be able to go back to when tis were bright and mana filled the air. Now… they can finally envision it.
"When will they depart?" asked Moulin, who lifted his eyes from his work desk.
Ordan answered, "In three days, young master. Their unit shall include two trained arcan mages and a pathfinder."
The youth nodded. It was earlier than he thought, but he trusted Hadrian had already done the preparations.
"Young master…" Ordan began. However, just as Moulin responded with a hum, the warrior shook his head. "Ah… never mind."
A crease appeared between the youth's slender brows. He continued to note down alterations of magic formations. "Speak your mind."
He gave a hesitant glance towards Moulin's busy hands before he conceded. "Lord Hercullio's aura has changed…"
"Changed?"
Ordan lowered his gaze. "Yes… It's different. Stronger and fiercer… one can feel it even from a distance. The n have been talking. Is it the young master's work?"
The pen, freeing elegant writing, suddenly stopped, hovering above the parchnt. Moulin scrutinized the man standing before him before shaking his head and continuing what he was doing. "No, your master shouldered the burden of his legacy himself. I was just the guide."
'So it's true! The golden legacy still lives within the Hercullian veins!' The man's eyes are bright with surprise and joy. No soldier has not heard of the legendary Dragon during the Cataclysmic War. The warrior was sent from the heavens to save the lands.
Although many knew of the Dragon's blessed followers, which included the Hercullio clan, many believed the blessing had gradually vanished after many generations. But now, personally witnessing the essence of the Golden Dragon, he could barely resist bursting with the news!
Oblivious to Ordan's enthusiasm, Moulin continued his work.
…..
At noon, the ornate table within the assembly hall shone under the skylight. Several prominent lords and ladies sat on their designated seats wearing grim expressions. At the center, Prince Archaen gazed upon them with concern while at his right and left, sat Lord Magan and Lady Celeste, equally solemn.
Moulin did not expect to be invited to the eting. However, considering his crucial role within the Arcan Sector and the people, it was wise to include him. In his spectral form, he sat beside Lord Hadrian, glistening with the energy of the projection relic.
Staring at all the people within the hall, he thought he was the only one out of place… but he was wrong.
"They have broken our defenses twice this week… I'm afraid we cannot hold on for the next three days." Lady Klaria spoke. Even in her projection, her appearance looked impeccable, but one could discern the frustration and exhaustion in her beautiful features.
Ralor was one of the most prosperous bases, equipped with an outstanding workforce and defenses. It was situated deep within a forest surrounded by shifting mountains. It was extrely difficult to navigate. Yet sohow, the demons were able to find it thrice and tear down their precious walls. Thousands of n have lost their lives… it would take thousands more in the next fight.
The room grew heavy with tension. Moulin could almost feel it in his mouth. He frowned, 'If they lose Ralor, they will lose the alliance's vital ore supplier.'
"The Silver Scepter will be departing soon. I implore you to hold on… " One of the lords spoke.
Gloom on Lady Klaria's expression deepened. "It has been two days since the recent battle, and we have received confirmation that the next raid willn't be in three days. It gave us ti to recover. But three days… "
Her voice trailed off, gazing towards the council.
Moulin could not help but feel anxious. Three days… the Silver Scepter unit must reach Ralor in three days. It was too short, given that Ralor was located a few hundred miles from the Falowright Stronghold.
'It would at least take them a week or more with mounts, ' Moulin thought. Surveying the rest of the lords' expressions, he knew they were thinking of the sa thing.
Glancing around the table, Lord Hyantor's face contorted. "Is it really impossible? With a skilled pathfinder, the terrain is nothing, and with a formidable and experienced captain, surely the soldiers will arrive within three days."
Lord Magan frowned, "Finding a pathfinder is no problem. But who can we entrust the n with that is extrely familiar with Ralor's Terrain and find a way around the malibreeds and demons surrounding the base?"
The lords racked their brains for a full fifteen minutes. Moulin listened to their voices as they grew louder.
... If I could... If I didn't even know those lands, I would try...
Suddenly, Moulin felt a gaze on him. The youth lifted his head and t Hadrian's eyes. A sudden foreboding feeling arose, making his soul heavy and weak. However, he only gazed at Hadrian in silence.
In the next second, Hadrian turned away and faced the council.
"I will lead."
Shock and surprise filled the hall. Moulin wasn't spared. He looked at Hadrian with wide eyes.
"Lord Hercullio..." One of the lords spoke hesitantly.
Hadrian was too calm, but there was confidence in his tone as he spoke, "I have been to Ralor, and I will ensure we arrive in three days.
A hush fell over the hall. No one in the group found enough courage to speak out. Moulin's translucent form moved slightly in his projection seat. The words failed to erge as his mouth opened slightly.
A portion of his mind objected because Hadrian was too essential for his duties in Falowright, the Silver Scepter, and Helios. A formidable symbol. But at the sa ti… At that mont, he could sense the concealed fla burning in Hadrian's gaze. The tale of the Golden Dragon returned through fire, which had burned through countless stories.
Lady Celeste suddenly cut through his thoughts. "With Lord Hercullio's leadership, Ralor undoubtedly has a chance."
Moulin glanced at Lady Celeste. "..."
The mont Hadrian's words had completely sunk into their minds, their desperation diminished, and now murmurs of agreent resounded within the halls. Lady Klaria was surprised; she did not expect Lord Hadrian to step forth imdiately.
"What does the Lynari think?..."
Instantly, all their attention shifted towards the graceful silver-haired maeruthan glistening with projection mana. The anticipation in their eyes secretly irked Moulin. But he knew they turned to him for both truth and reassurance.
Moulin lifted his gaze and calmly spoke, "Lord Hercullio will be guided with light. It's... a wise choice."
He couldn't lie...
The council exchanged looks of agreent while Prince Archaen studied Moulin silently before speaking. "Then, with the Lynari's word, Lord Hercullio shall lead the expedition."
With the prince's declaration, the assembly adjourned smoothly.
The spectral form of the hall disappeared in the air as Moulin sat in the empty study. He remained still and silent as ti passed slowly.
Then he sighed...
At the next mont, the air shifted, and unstable mana flashed within the area. Moulin didn't need to lift his head to know who had just appeared in the room.
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