Moulin smiles. It was a friendly one but his eyes were secretly scrutinizing the tall elf who was standing beside his friend, Jagra.

He didn't expect Gaile to return his gaze with an equally amiable smile. There was distrust in his eyes which Moulin could easily detect. However, he couldn't blame Gaile. Perhaps, Gaile was also aware of the suspicion Moulin had for him.

Moulin shakes his head and internally dismissed his thoughts. He wished the party could end sooner so he could leave and visit Phuna. He didn't have the chance to directly visit her room.

Maybe she was already sleeping... Moulin furrows his brows in concern. Did she already know what happened to her father? She wouldn't take it lightly...

"Excuse me, guests..."

Moulin and his three companions shifted their attention to an elven servant. He slightly lowered his gaze and bowed to the four of them. It was a servant from the Royalty Table. Moulin immediately recognized the servant by the golden ornament around his wrists.

"My Masters would like for you to join them at the table." He spoke courteously with clasped hands. His words were only directed to Moulin who slightly raised his brows in surprise.

Ghana smiled cheekily. She slightly nudged the young master beside her with a grin. "Go on, young master. It's an honor to be invited to dine with the royal family."

Moulin narrowed his eyes at her making her raise her hands in surrender. Jagra urged Moulin to go with a smile while he kept an eye at the grinning Ghana. It was rude to decline such a significant invitation. Moulin could only concede and followed the servant before passing his drink to a passing waiter. His steps were unhurried as he expressionlessly walked. His cape fluttered behind him gracefully as he moved, catching the attention of the sentinels and elves around him.

"Look at him..." Ghana shakes her head. "With such a mighty walk, even the boldest and slyest of the courtesans wouldn't dare to interrupt him..."

Mighty walk? Jagra glanced at her confusingly.

"Agreeably, wherever Moulin is. He is bound to catch the eye of many. He is strong and stunning... Brave and compassionate... "

He sighs distressingly.

"What's wrong?" Ghana looked at him.

Gaile stares at Jagra curiously.

"It distresses me to think that I was unable to help him in his most difficult times during the mission. Although we are companions, I could not help him. Only he stood alone in his hardest. I couldn't imagine how he felt dealing with his troubles alone..." Jagra said with a downcast expression.

He felt a comforting pat on his shoulder. Ghana's blue eyes soften soothingly. "You were unconscious during those times, Jagra. And he couldn't just watch you sleep hopelessly. He found a way to obtain the cure and saved you... His efforts were worth it if you were able to open your eyes once again."

"I am indebted to him..."

"Indeed, we are..." Ghana continues to watch as Moulin's figure disappears beyond the closing wall of magical plants that guarded the Royal Water Pavillion.

They were unaware of the assessing gaze of the elven man standing silently beside Jagra. Eyes, the color of the deepest sea, watches the slender youth with braided hair and surrounded by an air of solemnity.

He looked equally gentle and fierce. He didn't know why such a young man would deserve such torment in the future...

Meanwhile, Moulin was welcomed by the people sitting at the long table. The candlelight flickered as candles stood upright within the slots of the golden candleholders placed on the table. The round roof pavilion was built on top of a water pond where the moonlight gleamed on the tranquil water surface filled with water lilies and lotus plants.

His silver eyes glance at the water numerous times. Admiring its beauty and silently comparing it to the dazzling frozen waters in the Northern Mountains where he revived. His boots were soft against the white wood of the pavilion floor.

The people of the table comprise the royal siblings, a few elven generals, the Guild Lords, and the captains of the mission team. Moulin didn't feel out of place at all. Instead, he didn't really care about sitting with a group of prominent people. His focus was solely on the food before him, eating elegantly with an unreadable expression. He was fully aware of a particular man's gaze that never failed to bring shivers up his spine.

"Moulin, I have heard of your courageous feats. It is truly admirable. Never had I ever seen such deep loyalty between a subordinate to his master..." It was Nordehl's brother, the second prince of Thundralln who spoke. His bright amber eyes looked quite captivating and filled with admiration.

"Your highness flatters me too much..." Moulin smiles when he lifts his gaze. He briefly glanced at Hadrian who was silently staring at him

"Indeed, he is courageous and admirable. He is the person who obtained the ingredient for the strange sickness of our warriors and the person who saved our sister. Truthfully, we never had the chance to express our gratitude to you for rescuing our dear sister..." The third prince nodded. Nordehl and the rest of the elves nodded in agreement. "Tell me is there anything you wish for?..."

Suddenly the whole area was silent as they waited for the youth's reply. If the Elven Royalty offers one the chance to get whatever they desire, such a thing was the most remarkable thing that could happen in anyone's life! It was different from the Imperial rewards of Aurona, it wasn't just gold, riches, or th rarest artifacts, the Elven kingdom is one of the most prosperous kingdoms in Corahn. Certainly, no one could have the guts to reject it!

Troid, Rowan, Relena, and even Ordan waited for Moulin's reply. Curious about what thing would the youth wish for? Ancient techniques or relics? A palace or land of his own?...

"If your Excellencies insist, then... " Moulin's eyes gleamed with determination. Those silver pupils were more enthralling than the moon's unparalleled beauty. "I would wish for a cure..."

...

"... A cure?" Nordehl shifted in his seat. "A cure to relieve one of age? A cure to revive scorched lands?"

Moulin shakes his head, "A cure for pain and illness. Specifically, I would like to get my hands on one of the concoctions that cured the sentinels and elves of their paralysis..."

"..."

Nordehl furrowed his brows. "Is that all?"

"Yes..."

This Eilhara interjects. "Surely, there must be more you can ask from us, Moulin. I can give you two cities and rename them in your honor. If you want, I can offer you the most precious mystical herb plantations of Thundralln..."

Moulin smiles faintly, "That truly is tempting... but I don't think I won't have any need of them for now..." Indeed, it was tempting but his mother's life depended on him. It was more important than some land. His brothers would probably do the same if it were them.

"... I see." Nordehl rubbed his chin. At first, he was prepared to offer the youth the treasures in the treasury room. However, he didn't expect Moulin to only want Valcan's potion. Feeling deeply unsatisfied and unsettled, Nordehl only proposes Moulin ask him for what he would want and or if he would need any help in the future. For the cure, he ordered a servant to inform Valcan of it. Afterwards, the evening meal was filled with delightful conversations and numerous words of gratitude. The meal was exceptionally palatable and the atmosphere was most pleasant.

Not long after, the princes, Lord Ordan, and Lord Hadrian excused themselves to proceed to a private place to hold their conversation. Rowan, Relena, and the other sentinels left the table to join their fellow sentinels who outside the garden where their loud celebration was held. Glancing at the waters around the pavilion one last time, Moulin also stood to return to the sentinel's festivity.

"Moulin..."

Princess Eilhara who was dressed stunningly called out his name making him pause his steps. Moulin turned to look back over his shoulder and saw Eilhara dismiss the generals and the rest of the people in the pavilion. Once they were finally alone, Eilhara took a deep breath as she approached Moulin. Her straight golden hair was elegantly styled; gems adorned the platinum strands of her hair and even the ends of her flowy dress. Her silver eyes held Moulin within their gaze.

"Is there something who want to ask, your highness?" Moulin asked, breaking the silence around them.

"It's something important..." Her brows furrowed worriedly. Wearing a troubled expression, she was hesitating as she pressed her lips together. Seeing her like this, Moulin could not help but feel that something was wrong...

"Your highness... " Moulin stepped towards her slowly. "What is it? What is troubling you?..."

Hearing the gentleness of his voice, she calmed downed and lifted her gaze. She choked the words out of her mouth.

"It's about the child named Phuna..."

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

Rapid footsteps echoed throughout the hallways. It clapped on the polished floor, resounding through every hallway. It was accompanied by the erratic breathing from the youth's mouth as he struggled to keep his mind and breathing steady. Thundering within his chest, his heart refused to calm down.

'Gone?! What did she mean gone? Gone where?!'

Moulin's expression was grave as he turned right, his heels screeching against the floor.

'She can't go anywhere! Where could she go by herself? She is just a child! A... helpless orphaned child...'

"Huff... Huff... Huff... " Moulim finally arrived before the doors to Phuna's room. He didn't waste any time and slammed the doors open. He expected the right smile of the little girl whom he promised to bring his father back safe and sound. But he failed to do so...

He expected Phuna's round innocent eyes to be looking at him happily or the grieving eyes of a child who lost their most important person...

However, there was nothing but the cold emptiness of the room.

His mouth and his throat were painfully dry as he swallowed painfully.

Slowly, he walked to the bed and his fingers hesitantly caressed the softness of the sheets. Cold...

She was gone...

Recalling, the grief-filled expression of Phuna's father. Moulin sat at the edge of the bed and cradled his head with his hands. His shoulders trembled.

'Where could she be?'

While bitterly immersing himself in his thoughts, gravely tormented and distraught, by the open door, stood Hadrian's figure.

Golden eyes silently watched Moulin's anguished form, bathed by the moonlight passing through the windows.