The silence shifts. Now brimming with anticipation. With trembling eyes, Moulin watched the presence beside him fully materialize. The world deafened around him.
That familiar tall build, those hands, and finally his sharp features. The projection failed to bring out the truest of his colors. However, Moulin could still rember them vividly.
Lord Hadrian Hercullio finally entered the assembly. Clad in armor and wearing an impassive expression, he appeared fresh out of the battlefield, yet none like it. He looked handso, neat, and dignified.
His eyes, pools of molten gold, turned to the person sitting at his side, Moulin. The youth swallowed. His mouth itched to tell him many things, but Moulin resisted. Now was not the ti. They hadn't seen each other for several days, and the yearning in the youth's eyes almost seed to burst.
Fortunately, Hadrian turned away first to confront the lords. Everyone seed tense from the intimidating aura he carried. Even Lord Magan unusually kept his mouth shut.
"You have finally graced us with your presence, Lord Hercullio." The Crown Prince smiled. A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I hope we weren't interrupting sothing?"
"The matter is finished. Thank you all for your patience." Lord Hercullio responded as he swept his eyes across the many faces at the table. His voice heavily resounded in their ears. "The Lynari's hint may be true."
He heard that? Moulin tilted his head. A few murmurs sounded from the people across him.
"Would you care to explain, Your Excellency?"
With a nod, Hadrian pulled sothing from within his cloak. Long and dry, red as blood.
The silver-eyed man beside him stiffened. Eyes wide in shock.
A red feather.
"I have encountered a horde in my journey as well," Hadrian spoke, lifting the feather between his fingers. The object seed ready to crumble, trapped in his grasp. "Those red creatures acted like puppets. The real manipulators stood afar and watched. Pulled this right out of their bodies."
Prince Vascilicus swallowed as his eyes fell deeply on the golden lord, "If what you say is true... That explains why they could produce such monsters in great numbers. They are collecting the bodies to…"
The words were stuck in his mouth. Now, every one of them was aware of the reason…
Moulin's jaw clenched. Turn the dead against them. Revive and corrupt them into mindless slaves. The horned beings must have been the puppeteers of the red-skinned horde.
The lord and ladies exchanged heavy discussion, apprehensive of the new information. Their enemies had created monstrous things that went beyond their understanding…
Necromancy was a rare case. Too rare. They have only been ntioned in ancient texts and have never been successfully conducted. How had they done it?
"That feather…"
Every gaze turned towards the silver-eyed young man who suddenly spoke.
Moulin t Hadrian's gaze. The lord's voice softened slightly. "You recognize it, don't you?"
"Young Lord-… Lynari, have you seen it before?" One of the lords asked in anticipation.
Finding himself at the center of attention, Moulin calmly spoke, "I have. During our travels, we found ourselves in the floating islands of Artheia. There, we were attacked by malibreeds and demons. One in particular possessed the sa red feathers as the one in Lord Hadrian's possession."
"Then this demon…" Lady Klaria's brows furrowed suspiciously.
"Is the sa one perhaps controlling these rogues with mana… Moulin is right. The red demon bird we encountered was a powerful foe. However…"
"… there is a much greater power behind him."Moulin continued.
Him? Hadrian glanced at the youth. His eyes deepened. "Uldher, the High Demon, master of soul manipulation and animacy."
They have heard of Uldher, the people thought. The master behind the elven demon prisoner is currently in their custody, who is a valuable asset to uncovering Gohtel's location.
"If this is true… then we have no recourse. We must sharpen our blades…" The Crown Prince strokes his chin thoughtfully. His eyes solemnly scanned the hall.
"Their acts have beco more desperate. There's no doubt what their goal is here…" Lord Magan's determined gaze glanced towards the young man in white.
"Double the efforts of spreading the word to every outpost and fortress. Our allies shall be gathered. No region must lower its vigilance."
Brimming with absolute authority, the crown prince's voice fell like a gavel sealing fate. Moulin could already feel everyone's determination, fierce and unyielding, despite the unease hanging on every breath. As leaders of the fortress and Corhan's last defensive force, they must all persevere and do what is necessary to secure their people's future and restore Corhan to its forr glory.
The assembly ended after half an hour of endless debate and discussion. Moulin thought it went smoother than he initially thought. Everyone was eager to resolve and fight back, a fire sparking afla inside them.
Gradually, the leaders began to file out of the hall, leaving only a few people behind, including Moulin, Lord Fridal, Lady Klaria, and the Crown Prince's faction.
Unable to resist any longer, Moulin approached Hadrian. The sense of formality quickly vanished in the blink of an eye. The youth stood before the Golden Lord in silence. His silver eyes traced every bit of his face, as thought trying to look for any anomalies.
Lord Magan's face fell, and he quickly excused himself with a huff. There was no way he was staying here to witness these two lovebirds flirt with each other…
"Are you…" Moulin began.
"I am fine…" Hadrian replied as though he already knew of Moulin's concern. His voice softened as he tenderly gazed at the youth before him. "I may not return sooner than I thought. Forgive …"
Sighing helplessly, Moulin smiled. "It cannot be helped. The people need you. And your every success is tantamount to vengeance against our enemies. Rember to always look after yourself… It worries that you might overlook your own limits."
An amused smile graced Hadrian's handso face. "You truly missed ?"
The teasing tone almost made Moulin bolt. The youth raised a brow, "Do you doubt so much? Aren't I an excellent lover?"
A hand reached out to caress the young man's cheek. Golden eyes deepened tenderly. In his eyes, there was no one else but Moulin. "No one else could compare to you…"
"Cough!"
The two stopped at the interruption and turned towards Lord Fridal and Lady Klaria, who stared at them with a frown.
"Honestly, I can never understand how you two could ignore everyone else so easily…" Lady Klaria revealed a worried look.
anwhile, Lord Hyantor abruptly turned towards the door with a wave. "My ears will bleed at this rate. I'll leave you two be… Please continue…"
For the first ti, Lady Klaria agreed, following the lord to the exit. Lady Celeste looked away expressionlessly and accompanied the curious third prince to leave.
The youth's ears reddened in embarrassnt. Agh, were they really so oblivious to those around them? Moulin couldn't help but clear his throat before speaking, "Ti is short. Hadrian… you must co back safely. And Kier… sigh… take care of him well."
"Have a bit of fate. I'll make sure I co back in one piece, beloved."
Moulin raised his heels to press his forehead against Hadrian's. It was not a kiss, but the act was as touching and devoted as one could be. Their reunion was extrely short, but Moulin felt it lasted an eternity.
Ahh… he missed him more than he thought.
…..
A few days passed, and despite being isolated in the realm for the entire duration, Moulin could already feel the changes within the fortress. From within the Arcan Chambers, he resonated with Morhas, extending his consciousness to the weave of pure energy spreading far and wide.
Morhas guided him to each conduit, teaching him to devour the corrupted energy within the air, transforming it into pure energy. Like hundreds of stars within his reach, he could resonate with the crystals.
It was quite an experience. Another thing that kept him up, aside from worrying about Hadrian for nights. Ever since their recent farewell, Moulin yearned to go where Hadrian was. To fight alongside him and travel to the sentient corrupted lands and vanquish evil.
But his role was here, to stay safely within the confines of the fortress and refine Arcan magic. But Moulin would be lying if he said he didn't miss venturing the corrupted lands of Corhan…
From Na'El he heard, the elven princess of Thrundralln, Artheia had co to represent the kingdom and join the alliance. Moulin was beyond delighted to hear the news. Furthermore, several hidden bases had revealed themselves after realizing the value of the Arcan Conduits the Silver Scepter had erected. Leaders from different bases, large and small, extended their wishes to join the alliance and help develop powerful military might to use against the damnable creatures that threatened the lands and seas.
With the increase in the workforce, Moulin and Lady Calanthe decided to expand the Arcan Sector. With the production of arcan artifacts increasing, they recruited more mages and seers. As expected, their reaction to the source of the enchantnts, the forbidden magic, was great. But most soon realized its significance in transforming malevolence and used it to their advantage.
With that, Morhas's na spread. In the minds of countless people, the once unknown child deity has transford into an irreplaceable being of hope. And his prophet, the beacon of hope, the Lynari.
Moulin could no longer count how many letters had been delivered to him, wishing to et him, to be graced with his presence. That even a glimpse of him could cleanse one's soul. The amount of praise and requests left him dumbfounded. Fortunately, Ordan took over the task of vetting the letters, as the youth could no longer bear even to unfold one letter.
Late at night, the youth silently went over the stack of letters addressed to him, carefully chosen by Ordan. His hand swiftly opened one letter, folded it, rembering which ones he was going to reply to tomorrow. Nestled on his bed, although he looked comfortable and warm, no one could mistake the dark circles under his eyes. With all the etings, assessing the deciphering process of the seals, appraising the works of the Arcan Sector, training sessions, and regularly checking the state of the Arcan Chamber. Moulin was growing busier and busier.
A yawn broke from Snow's little mouth while he sleepily curled himself on the space beside Moulin. Moulin could not help but let out a yawn. Little droplets are forming on the corners of his eyes. The warm light from the bedside lamp blanketed the two creatures on the bed.
Suddenly, Moulin stopped. His eyes fell upon the open sheet in his hand.
"Second Brother?…" he whispered.
Moulin blinked before instantly straightening, eagerly trying to read everything.
As the leader of the Pathfinders Corps, he would participate in extensive research of the terrain while also acting as an informant and ambassador of Falowright. The journey would be arduous, but it would bring significant information and advantage. Perhaps, the expedition would take weeks or even months…
Moulin's heart could not help but ache. His silver eyes trembled as his fingers curled around the paper edges.
'For the good of the alliance and the Lynari, my dearest youngest brother…'
Even the end of his letter was wistful. What is this? Moulin glared. Frustration filled his chest. However, he knew no one was as skilled as his brother in traversing Corhan's corrupted terrain. Moulin took a deep breath… he needed to have faith… Emlen… the soldiers… Hadrian…
They will co back to him safely…
"But still… how frustrating…" he complained, throwing the letters at the bedside before, taking Snow in his embrace, and burying himself in the blankets.
Not long after, the creases on his forehead relaxed, and the young man's breath steadied as he drifted into a deep sleep. Hours passed.
Within the silence of the room, the little ball of white in Moulin's arms wriggled out of the blankets skillfully. Snow sat on the bed, ears twitching as if he heard sothing…
Two beady silver pupils contracted warily. His ears shifted as a low growl left his mouth.
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