Chapter 263: Joining Veresyahs

Nightfall comes, and it is no longer a dreadful thing to Moulin. 

With his ankle-length hair cut short, the silver braid rested just above his tailbone. Tomorrow, he would join the Veresyahs, and he would prepare himself to aid them, to contribute to his stay. The collars of his shirt fluttered as the nightly wind greeted him in the dark balcony. His hip was leaning against the fence, and his eyes lifted as though searching for the stars within the black sky. 

But he didn't care if he could actually see one. He was simply gazing blankly—thoughts crammed in his head like clothes popping out of a tightly closed trunk. A faint sigh escaped his lips, and he lowered his gaze. At last, he settled his attention to the city beneath the tower. The lights were like stars. Like a river's reflection of the starry sky.

"Moulin..."

Moulin paused. He withdrew from the banister and silently turned to approach the open doors of the balcony. A man bearing a golden gaze stood patiently. His eyes welcomed Moulin as he walked towards him.

"Are you still troubled?" Hadrian smiled as he reached for the young man's cheek. Although he already knew of the answer, he still asked. As his palm touched Moulin, he continued. "You don't have to hide it."

"You know I cannot hide anything from you." Moulin met his gaze. His lips curled into a smile. "I am also tired."

"Then rest."

The pair headed to the bedroom. Moulin dropped himself on the bed, face down, not caring how his body bounced on the mattress. 

At the corner of the room, laid on a large red cushion, a small snow-white fox slept sounding. The slumbering Opallian fox was surrounded by the familiar warmth of the massive black wolf. Kier wasn't entirely sleeping. His nights were filled with alertness, and only a pinch of it would he spend resting. 

Moulin felt the bed dip. Another man's weight joined him on the bed. Moulin sighed as he felt fingers untie the lace of his hair, unwinding the locks of silver strands and letting it fall on the white sheets. Moulin didn't bother to turn and stop Hadrian from brushing his thick finger through the silkiness of his hair. 

"Tomorrow, I will have Fhorg accompany you..." Hadrian spoke as he worked on kneading the base of the youth's neck. 

"Why?"

"You aren't knowledgeable of the Tower's map. You will get lost... again." 

Moulin frowned. "Fine."

A corner of the Lord's lips lifted. After soothing the youth, Hadrian and Moulin dwelled within each other's arms. The breaths synchronized. Steady and calm as the night whisked them away altogether.

.............

The following day, Moulin woke up at dawn. He immersed himself in Hadrian's care. Bathing, eating, and even dressing him. It seemed the man wasn't finished comforting him. When they reluctantly parted, Hadrian promised to visit him after he had finished his work. Honestly, Moulin was embarrassed to witness the doting side of Hadrian. 

"Young Lord, this way," said Fhorg. He gestured his arm to the teleportation platform at the end of the hallway. 

The two teleported, and when Moulin opened his eyes, he found himself welcomed by the fresh scent of nature. 

And the open sky above their heads.

After a moment, Moulin lifted his gaze and turned his head. The sight of the three towers greeted his eyes. 

'The Veresyah settlement is not inside the tower?' Moulin thought.

A vast open area, a training field, Moulin had recognized when he returned his gaze before him. The ground was hard and dusty as he and Fhorg stepped on it. Fresh green grass surrounded the training field littered with small sheds, wooden targets, and humanoid creatures with antlers varying in different sizes and shapes.

They passed by female and male Veresyahs crowding as they watched a one-on-one duel. Sweat glistened on their arms, and they moved fast, creating trails of smoke-like dust. Veresyahs, as Moulin had heard, enjoyed challenges and duels. However, they were known to be more skilled in creation, such as manipulating the mana of magical herbs for their use and creating artifacts. 

They were second to the elves in terms of intellect and invention. And they, like other clans of beastmen, discriminate against other beasts who don't share their likeness. 

"Woah!"

Moulin's eyes widened, and his instincts kicked in. A tall man suddenly stumbled towards him. Instead of dodging, Moulin opened his arms and hurriedly stabilized the Veresyah, who almost bumped into him. Fhorg instantly turned his head and rushed to Moulin's side. He was tasked to guard the young lord. If anything would happen to him, Fhorg didn't know what would happen to him when he faced the High Lord again.

Moulin felt his hands touch the bare skin of the Veresyah's arm. His silver eyes lifted to meet the startled man's gaze. "Are you alright?"

The beastman blinked his pale yellow eyes. They looked like glittery gold gauze curtains that filtered bright sunlight. Large, powerful-looking antlers crowned his head. Eight points branched out each of the main beams. There was a hint of gold that layered its surface,e making it look majestic under the light. It was beautiful. Utterly splendid.

The Veresyah's eyes widened at the sight of the person who held him. 'Eyes like moonlight, hair as wondrous as the glittering moonlight sparkling from the river water. He didn't realize the whole area had gone silent. However, he was too captivated even to utter a single word.

Moulin blinked as he looked around him. "..?"

Finally, Fhorg stepped into the silence. "Remove your hands."

Pausing, Moulin thought Fhorg was directing his words to him, but when he realized that the Veresyah's hand was touching his wrist, he understood. However, the beastman still didn't move an inch.

"Um..."

It was only when Moulin spoke did the Veresyah snapped out of it. He jerked back, flustered with a faint flush on his cheeks. Moulin furrowed his brows and paid it no mind.

"I... thank you..." The beastman spoke as if in a daze, still taking in Moulin's features. 

Moulin only smiled before Fhorg led him away. His figure is slowly growing small within the beastman's eyes.

"Vuren!" Someone shouted. Heavy footsteps hurried towards him. "What was that?"

Vuren, who refused to take his eyes off the slender figure, blinked. "Calak, I think... I may be entranced."

Meanwhile, suppressing his unease, Fhorg calmly introduced the Lord of the Veresyah to Moulin. The latter greeted the aged man. Marlov, the Veresyah's lord, was a kind-looking man, at least in Moulin's eyes. Moulin had noticed that the Veresyah around him were stiff like a statue as he accepted Marlov's bow. Mentally shrugging the thought off, he followed Marlov's lead, heading towards a staircase made of large oval rocks. 

A fierce wind made Moulin's braid swing on his back. They were climbing towards the top of a plateau. Ever since his revival, Moulin had never seen so much green. Reaching the top of the stairs was like finally arriving at the tip of the mountain. They reached a field much smaller than the one Moulin first saw. Three tower-like viewing areas were situated from the north, west, and east of Moulin's sight. 

Glancing at the viewing boxes within the building, Moulin couldn't help but recall back when he was being selected for the Guild selection in Azuran. 

There was no sight of other Veresyah's in the vicinity aside from two figures standing at the center of the field; one female and one male. 

"Welcome..." The male Veresyah said as he approached Moulin. The female followed behind her companion with a smile. Moulin's eyes brightened at the sight of her antlers. Although hers was smaller than the male, they were beautifully curved and looked stunning.

Marlov gestured his arm to the pair. "These two are some of my finest warriors. They will be your companions for the rest of the time you will be joining us." After receiving Moulin's acknowledgment, he turned to the two in confusion. "Where are the others? My son?"

The girl shook his head, "Like the adventurous buck he is, he had just returned from his hunt beyond the walls. He will probably join us later."

"I see..." Marlov nodded. Feeling a little embarrassed, he turned to Fhorg and Moulin. "Forgive me; It seems like we will have to wait for a bit. My son..." He sighed. "He's a little late at some times..."

"Then he should fix this trait," Fhorg muttered as he narrowed his eyes.

"We can wait for him." Moulin faintly smiled, "But if he isn't back until then, we will have to begin without him." 

"I am grateful for your understanding." Marlov bowed sincerely. He was sure to firmly discipline his son when everything is finished.

Suddenly feeling the mood for a spar, Moulin uttered a few words to Fhorg before treading the dusty ground towards one of the open rooms beneath the stone tower. Out of their sight, Moulin entered the dim room and sat on one of the empty benches. His eyes gazed upon the spears that were lined in a row across the wall before him. 

The silence around him gave him time to breathe. The quiet soothed his nerves, and he closed his eyes, aiming to feel nothing and hear his breathing. He leaned his back on the wall, and he tipped his chin upwards. He wondered how Hadrian was doing right now. Moulin's forehead wrinkled. He should've brought Snow and Kier with him.

After a while, Moulin decided to hurry and only wear his inner clothes. He figured the loose garment would make it easier for him to move his body. He didn't care if he'd be soiled in sweat. A bath can clean him up. Finishing up, Moulin took one last glance at the rows of spears before turning away. 

"You! how could you be late?! What have you been doing?! You're making a fool out of us!"

The scolding was loud and clear. Too loud. A crease appeared between Moulin's eyebrows as he slowed down his steps. His braided hair swayed with his movements as he walked. 

Fhorg noticed his presence, but the rest didn't. They were too distracted by Marlov, who was scolding a young Veresyah man. The man's face was lowered as if he was repenting. Somehow, it looked pitifully amusing... and familiar.

Suddenly, the man lifted his head. His pale yellow eyes turned to Moulin, and he stopped. 

Moulin accidentally met his gaze, but he didn't look away. "..?"

Ah! it was the Veresyah that almost fell on him!

"What are you looking at? Are you even listening to me-" Marlov turned his head to Moulin, and he choked on his words. 

Faintly smiling, Moulin glanced at Fhorg before he returned his attention to the four Veresyah. His eyes darted between Marlov and Verun. "So, is this your son?-"

"Please, bond with me!" Verun suddenly spouted. 

...

Moulin: ...

Fhorg: ...

The two warriors: ...

"This little-" Marlov gnashed his teeth.

Somewhere, within a private office, a particular man with golden eyes suddenly lifted his head from the documents on his desk. "..."

An infuriating feeling suddenly crept inside him.

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