Moulin sighed. He expected this would happen. With a crease between his eyebrows, his silver eyes lifted to peek at the lord's clenched jaw.

Nordehl looked like he was choking. His face was pale and sure enough, his lungs refused to let air enter. He never wanted to look so pathetic in front of the Esteemed Lord Hadrian Hercullio, however, at this moment he could not help but become terrified.

"Hadrian..." Moulin called. Nervousness flickered in his silver eyes. He raised a hand to his shoulder and his fingers touched the rough fingers belonging to his lover. With a faint smile, Moulin spoke. "I agreed to join the mission..."

Golden pupils sharply gazed downwards to look at the bright pair of silver eyes that never failed to hook him. However, this time Hadrian was not swept by its gorgeousness. Instead, He narrowed his eyes. "I thought we just finished the conversation..."

"We did but this is different..." Moulin reasoned. He slightly shifted his body as he sighed. "There are hostages kept by the Malefic... Prince Nordehl's sister... Phuna's father... They're probably held captive there."

Hadrian narrow

wed his eyes even more. There was a blazing rage in those eyes and the same instant, the skies had darkened. In minutes, thunder noises around the kingdom of Thundralln. It was the first time, Nordehl had witnessed the anger of Lord Hadrian. Truly, his power was terrifying. To even alter the weather... Indeed, it was godly.

The elven oracle, Laphora, lowered his head. He could sense the rage surrounding the area. If Moulin was not here, perhaps, something dreadful would have occurred. Rowan and Relena's thoughts were the same.

Realizing he needed to hold his conversation with Hadrian privately, Moulin exhaled. In truth, he too was not certain if Hadrian would accept.

Slowly, he stood up from his seat and bowed to the rest of the people who had been frozen stiff, sensing the tense atmosphere. However, before he could speak to Hadrian, the man snatched his wrist in a locking grip, and without another word, both their figures disappeared with a flash.

...

Silence engulfed the oracle's bed chambers.

...

Rowan was the first to break the silence after a couple of seconds. He sighed heavily, predicting the graveness of the mission and perhaps, even his loyalty to Lord Hadrian would be questioned. He unhurriedly spoke, "Let us give them a couple of days at least... I'm afraid my Lord would definitely object to the plan."

"I agree..." Relena acknowledged the suggestion. "We have greatly trouble, Moulin..."

Nordehl clenched his fists as his eyes deepened. There was anguish and self-loathing in his eyes. He was too afraid to face Lord Hadrian. In the end, they have caused problems for Moulin. The elven prince lifted his head and gazed at the injured oracle on the bed who nodded to Rowan's suggestion.

Laphora softly spoke, "There are reasons why Lord Hadrian would never allow Moulin to join the mission aside from Moulin being his lover. Let's give them time... and in the meantime lets us think of another alternative"

. .. . .

"Do you not realize the inevitable dangers in that mission?" Hadrian coldly questioned. Fury was emanating from his frame as he gazed darkly at Moulin.

They were back in Hadrian's chambers. The windows revealed the terrifying dark clouds blanketing the skies. Moulin stood before Hadrian, his wrist was released but he could still feel the stinging pain. He ignored it and met his lover's eyes.

"I do. I am aware..."

"Then why?..." Golden eyes narrowed.

"Because people are being kept prisoners! Phuna's father could be there as well as the prince's sister... " Moulin closed his eyes as he explained. "It would've. been better if I still had your guising artifact. Now that I don't... It doesn't matter. I can do it."

"Do you not even realize why despite they knew that you could be caught because of your eyes, they still want you to risk your life?" Hadrian bitterly remarked. "Do you think nothing would happen to you?"

Moulin lowered his lids. His gaze turned helpless. "I will be careful-"

"No!" Hadrian declared. His words were resolute and he did not want any further arguments. "Perhaps you might think that your circumstance is insignificant. Do not jest yourself."

Moulin fell silent. Something flickered in his silver eyes.

"I will not allow it" With bitterness and anger in his tone, he turned to head to the doors. "This is my decision."

With that, Lord Hadrian Hercullio left his chambers. Moulin was left alone in the room. His solitary figure looked grim and lonesome as the dimness of the sky darkened the room. It was not long before heavy raindrops knocked on the window panes. Dripping down the crystal glass like streaming tears.

Moulin closed his eyes and sighed.

...

It was the first time Hadrian had raised his voice at him.

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

The rain did not stop.

The whole kingdom was covered with a curtain of an endless downpour. The cold could almost make one shiver. If it wasn't for the ancient wooden barrier of Thundralln to protect the imperial city from the hard rain, the city would have been flooded. While one's eyes observed the unnerving flashes of light within the dark clouds, they would think the gods were raging with ferocity. The misgiving was slightly convincing.

White hair was carefully braided and tied by a ribbon. A ribbon, given from his golden-eyed lover. Moulin walked towards one of the rooms in the infirmary. His steps were soft and his expression was solemn.

It has been two days since Hadrian had spoken to him. Although the man would still escort him to the sentinel's courtyard or his room, Hadrian would not speak a word. The man's expression was always neutral and unfeeling. If Moulin would try to start a conversation, Hadrian would gaze at him with uncertain eyes but refuse to speak. The youth was helpless until Hadrian would turn and leave.

With narrowed eyes, Moulin sighed. He should've just given up on the idea of joining the mission. The silence was utterly suffocating.

"Oh, you're back!" A female servant brightened her eyes as soon as she saw Moulin enter the room. For the past few days, this young man had frequently visited the sentinel's wards. He would always visit his friend who was one of the paralyzed sentinels. She would always catch him sitting on a stool beside his friend's bed with worried eyes.

Honestly, anyone who would be the center of the young man's eyes was one lucky person. She could not help but feel envy for that person.

"Yes, thank you for your hard work." Moulin flashed her a smile before he walked towards the rows of beds where one of Jagra's bed was located.

Watching his departing back, the girl giggled as she hurried towards her friends to gossip. At the same moment, Moulin found his unconscious friend and surprisingly found a person sitting in his usual place. Moulin stopped his steps and narrowed his eyes as he tried to recall the name of the familiar elf.

When it clicked, Moulin's eyes widened. This was the elf who had taken care of Jagra back in Yan'Gofrae.

"Gaile?"

The tall elf turned to face Moulin once he heard his name being called. For a moment, Moulin noticed the vanishing dimness in the elf's stare. But it was gone in less than a second as if it never happened.

"Sir Moulin?" Gaile's eyes widened.

"You're here... " Moulin eyed the man. He was surprised by Gaile's appearance.

Gaile nodded as he shifted his gaze and focused on the sleeping youth on the bed. Jagra looked unusually pale. "I came to visit Jagra..."

Did he travel from Yan'Gofrae all the way to Thundralln just to visit Jagra? For a second, Moulin found it doubtful but to see the elf seriously gazing at Jagra as if afraid that the young man would disappear at any second, Moulin ignored his disbelief. "You've only just met but you came all the way here for him... I admire your concern..." And of course, your suspiciousness.

Gaile lowered his head his long straight hair fell past his strong back down to the legs of the wooden stool. Moulin then realized the man was wearing dark clothes. As though if the night came he would camouflage with the darkness. Gaile opened his mouth and replied, "Sir Jagra is the only person that could understand me..."

"..."

Moulin did not how to respond. He didn't want to ask 'why' for it would be rude to do so. So with a soft gaze, he only nodded. "I see."

It was not any of his business to interfere with the affairs of others. Seeing Gaile's longing gaze on Jagra's sleeping form, perhaps, Gaile was trustworthy. Perhaps...

Moulin stayed for more than an hour, engaging in small talks with Gaile who in return briefly responded. Afterwards, he gave a smile to Gaile and bade farewell. However, before he was about to leave, Moulin decided to talk to him one last time. When he spotted a strange tattoo on the elf's left wrist, he could not help but ask, "You have a strange tattoo..."

Almost instantly, Gaile pulled down his sleeve and hid the mark on his wrist before Moulin could get a closer look. Moulin was surprised at Gaile's hasty action.

"I apologize..." Moulin bowed his head. Curiousity, concealed within his eyes.

Gaile didn't respond and only nodded.

...

Was I being too nosy? Moulin thought to himself as he exited the sentinel's wards. In truth, it appeared like Moulin was forcing Gaile to talk to him. Feeling slightly guilty and awkward, Moulin released a sigh as he continued to walk forward through the empty hallways.

It didn't take long for him to arrive in his room in the sentinel's courtyard. He entered the room with soft steps. Seeing Snow was not anywhere inside the room like the brat was supposed to, Moulin felt faint loneliness creeping into his heart. It was always him all over again...

Pale fingers brushed the soft bed and Moulin slowly laid down to his side. His eyes were half-closed, filled dread. He was tired. Today, he could not find Hadrian anywhere. Disappointment clouded his expression.

Where did that asshole go?

He drew in a long breath with his eyes delicately closed.

The rain was not ceasing. The roaring thunder over the city of Thundralln was terrifyingly loud. It was clear what Hadrian was feeling.

...

Moulin held his knees to his chest. Silver pupils peeked between long lashes. They were filled with determination.

He should go and find Hadrian...