Chapter 282: A New Destination

"My mother?..." 

Moulin's voice was a low whisper as he spoke. There was a part of him that was confused and bewildered. Disbelief seemed to cover his face like a veil. Silver eyes strained at the man slowly walking across the room. A regal air surrounded him, emanating the masculine pheromone of a dominant man. Hadrian's eyes were tender as they laid on the young man's figure, sitting on the bed. 

The Lord's eyes met the gaze of the frail man on the bed, and Hadrian bent his head to him. There was no hostility between them. It was as if they had finally settled their differences and chose to co-exist with each other peacefully. Lord Dontae nodded to him. 

"What do you mean?" Moulin finally found his voice and spoke up. He questionably eyed Hadrian. 

Wearing a faint smile, Hadrian moved beside his lover, keeping his eyes on Moulin dotingly. "Your father worked hard to discover an ancient artifact within one of the temples in Thundralln." 

He grasped Moulin's shoulder and continued, "While your mother's soul and the body lays dormant within the space of the necklace, it cannot remain inside forever. Eight years is too long. If we're too late, the soul and body can no longer be recovered."

"What... W-What will happen to it?" Moulin hesitantly asked. 

"The body will wither, and her soul will perish forever."

Moulin instantly turned pale. His ashen face lowered, and he could not help but tremble in fear of the thought of it. 'No, I will never let that happen!', He promised himself with Hadrian's words echoing inside his head. 

"My son..." 

Moulin lifted his face and met his father's gentle yet anxious face. 

His father carefully squeezed his hand and said, "With my health, I cannot go with you. So, I will be entrusting this task to you and your elder brother." 

Moulin nodded. Determination flooded his silvery gaze. "Yes, father. We will take care of it. Don't worry."

Relief poured into Lord Dontae's heart. However, the anxiety didn't lessen a bit. It pained him to realize that he was bading farewell to his lost son just as he woke up. He longed for more time. If he had awoken a long time ago, perhaps, he would have poured all of his longing, sorrow, and love to his son. 

"Come back safely..." Moulin's father said almost pleadfully. The thought that he would lose his precious son once again haunted him. 

The warmth and pain of his father's words pierced Moulin's heart. With a wistful smile, he nodded. His eyes stung yet again. Tears threatening to fall. With a soft squeeze around his father's hand. Moulin suppressed the sorrow in his heart. "I will come back safe and sound. I promise..."

"Please..." Lord Dontae nodded. Holding tight unto his son's words. In his mind, he pictured his family, whole and happy once again. His chest tightened. 

There were many words left unsaid, but they were bound to be told next time. When they would reunite again, they would be happy. 

After a while, the bells of the city rang. It was time to go. Moulin reluctantly stood up from the bed. Before they could turn around, Lord Dontae called out. Only this time, it was Hadrian he was calling to. 

His grey eyes deepened. Worry and unease brimmed his gaze. His hands fisted on his sides as he spoke. "Please, take care of him."

Hadrian stopped. He nodded with a faint smile. It was an expression Lord Dontae had never seen the High Lord wear for many years. The memory of the pained and anguished look this man had shown him a long time ago was fresh in his mind. The loss painting all of his commonly cold exterior. Now, the warmth of this powerful man's gaze was so foreign it was almost unbelievable. 

However, Lord Dontae understood the cause of this change. His gaze landed softly on his third son. The very image of his beloved wife. "Be safe..."

Moulin nodded. "I will..."

Finally, the sound of the closing doors sounded throughout the room. 

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

"Huff... Huff... Huff... " 

Her calves burned, and a thin layer of sweat covered her nape and forehead. A small brown bag was nestled against her chest as she darted past the crown of people and beastmen. Her shoes were almost tapping rhythmically on the stone ground. 

"Wait!" Pola yelled as she skillfully slipped past the cracks of the crowd. The sound of hooves became more evident, and she knew she was close. However, men from her side and front pushed her back firmly.

"Agh!" Pola exclaimed as she clutched the satchel tight. Feeling the people closing around her as they cheered and shouted their blessing of luck to the departing group, Pola felt suffocated. She wasn't tall, and her view was obstructed. Will she never be able to say a proper goodbye?

"Hup!" 

"!!!"

Pola failed to shout when she felt a strong arm circled her waist and lifted her off the ground. Her eyes closed briefly, and when she opened them, the sea of heads welcomed her sight. Several people stared at her in shock and awe. She was moving, sitting on something hard. Pola blinked as she struggled to catch her breath, confused. "...?"

A short giggle sounded behind her. 

"Have you calmed down yet?" 

This playful voice was so familiar Pola didn't need to turn around to know who it was. With a long sigh, Pola nodded. "Thank you..."

Ghana grinned behind her. Her eyes briefly cast a sharp look on the people below them, making them flinch. Pola was sitting horizontally in front of her saddle. The petite figure of the woman before her made Ghana think of how well Pola would fit in her embrace. With the reigns within her palms, Ghana flicked her wrists and spurred her mount forward. 

"Are you looking for your dear young master?" Ghana said as she leads the horse through the crowd until they emerged into an open area. 

Clutching the bag in her hands, Pola nodded. "Yes..."

"I see." Ghana shrugged, uninterested. "Do you not have anything to say to me? Moulin isn't the only person leaving." 

"..." Pola's eyes squinted. "Yes, of course, Have a good trip."

Ghana's lips stretched into an amused smile. Her blue eyes seemed like the open sea, sparkling underneath the dazzling sky. Pola had glanced back to peek at her and was graced by the beauty of it. When Ghana moved to meet her eyes, Pola was quick to turn her head away. Lips pressed in a thin line, Pola felt embarrassed. The faint sound of her heart made her even more embarrassed.

'How cute...' Ghana thought, amused. 

Finally, they reached the group of familiar people riding their own mounts. The first person Pola recognize was none other than her young master. Her eyes brightened. As he strapped the extra pocket on his mount, Moulin was conversing with Jagra. 

"Moulin looked what I've picked up." Ghana jokingly said, earning her a glare from Pola. 

Moulin turned his gaze, and his eyes softened when he saw his two friends. A sweet smile appeared, and his silver eyes were as beautiful as the moon. A couple of people were already in a daze staring at his smile. Moulin ignored the crowd and sighed, "Hello, Pola..."

Pola almost slipped off the stirrup as Ghana helped her down. Hugging the satchel, her cheeks reddened. "Y-Young master." She began. 

"I brought you this..." She stretched her arms to offer him the brown, newly stitched satchel. 

At first sight, Moulin instantly recognized the bag. It was his favorite bag that he had carried with him at all times. His eyes widened. He didn't realize Pola had kept it all these years. Moulin received the bag and held it tight in his hands. "Thank you..."

Pola sniffed as she nodded. Her fingers fidgeted behind her. "Y-Young master... Please take care. Eat well and... come back safely." 

Moulin smiled and neared her. "I'll be back. You have to take care of yourself too."

"Yes." Pola nodded. Her gaze slowly lowered. "I will take care of myself and your little guest Phuna and her father; I will work well while you're away. And I will take care of your father in your stead." She held back a sob. "Don't worry..."

"Thank you..." 

Pola nodded. Tearing up, she bit her lips. 

Suddenly, the crowd's susurrations poured into Moulin's ears like a roaring river. The people parted like a splitting ocean for the man making his way to join the expedition group. The sight of golden hair and striking golden eyes silence the entire courtyard. The black cloak fell an inch just above his leather-covered ankles. And the golden linings of his scabbard appeared like golden flames on pitch-black sand. The Lord of the Tower silence the whole area with only his presence. 

Behind him was his trusted man, Lord Varick, and the line of Lords and Ladies of the City. 

"Moulin..." Was his first words the moment he stopped. 

The golden rings of his eyes deepened in color as he eyed the people surrounding his men. It didn't take a second for the crowd to take a few steps back. Sweat dripping down their foreheads.

"Hadrian..." Moulin smiled. 

Hadrian reached out to caress his cheek. His movements were gentle and frighteningly warm. Moulin tried hard to ignore the reactions of the audience. 

"Ao! Ao!" 

Moulin tilted his head and spotted Kier looking magnificently large and a particular grumbling snow-white fox held by its scruff. Moulin chuckled, "Thank you, Kier." He said as he took Snow and placed him inside one of the pockets strapped to his mount. Snow huffed as Moulin dropped him in the bag. With a loud bark, his head popped out of the cover. His beady silver eyes are peeking curiously. 

"Moulin, it's time." Emlen emerged behind Hadrian and taking his time to give a cold look at Hadrian. Moulin sighed, but he gave a small kiss on Hadrian's palm before pulling away. 

"Ugh..." Emlen grumbled as he walked away to fix Moulin's saddle. 

The group mounted their steeds. The beasts beat their hooves as men climbed on them. 

"Aid my grandfather," Hadrian told Varick. "I leave you to watch over while I'm gone."

Varick nodded, "Yes, My Lord. We will await your return."

The group began to depart amidst the words of farewell and waving hands of numerous. 

Pola clenched her fists, and she raised her voice. "Ghana!"

A smile broke from the warrior's face. Turning her head, Ghana's eyes curved. 

Although embarrassed, Pola shouted. "Be safe!"

Raising her brows, Ghana grinned. "Of course, princess." She waved a hand.

"Ugh..." Jagra groaned as he steered his horse beside Moulin's. "I feel like I'm giving my daughter away to some cunning philanderer."

Moulin chuckled. "You're just imagining it."