A Gorgeous White

Chapter 281: I'm Back

The smell of flowers is ripe, like walking 

through vast fields of spring. The fresh air, cool and soothing, caressing Moulin's face. Yet it is also warm and inviting, like returning home from a bloody war.  In every step the young man took, he felt like he would face an untouchable and indestructible creature. Only, it was his father, and his body was as fragile as a child. His father's body is weak and vulnerable to sickness. Moulin wondered how he was afraid, but there was nothing to be afraid of. His father wouldn't hurt him. 

The sword on his belt clanked as he walk. When Moulin lifted his eyes off his feet, he saw a frail-looking figure sitting straight and staring at the windows. He was shrouded with an air of solemnity. It felt as if Moulin was back eight years ago. Where he saw his father, calmly staring out in the open at his desk. Looking regal and positively charming yet cold like an invincible wall protecting his land and family. 

Moulin pressed his lips together, and his steps slowed. The more he looked at the man, the more his anxiety rose inside him. 

Suddenly, Lord Dontae turned his head. His now piercing gray eyes shifted to Moulin's approaching figure. 

He stopped, eyes widening, brows raised, and an overwhelming emotion flooded his heart. 

When their eyes met, Moulin stopped. His heart drummed endlessly, forcibly pounding against the walls of his chest. His feet refused to take another step. Suddenly, the silence between them felt loud. Although Moulin didn't like it, he didn't know what to do. 

His father's pale face and gray hair etched itself in Moulin's mind. Moulin felt his plans sweat as he clenched them tightly. 

"Moulin?..."

The first sound of his father's voice instantly disintegrated all of his suppressed emotions. Silver eyes were pricked by tears. His fingers trembled, and a hoarse, almost cracked sound released itself from his mouth. "Yes."

'It's me.'

Moulin felt his shoulders shake. Slowly, he started walking.

'I'm back...'

Restraining a whimper, he unblinkingly approached the bed. His quivering pupils never left his father's gaze.

"Father..."

Lord Dontae reached out a trembling hand. And Moulin was quick to touch him. He felt his father's hands holding him in a tight and warm hold. The gentle shake of it made Moulin want to break down. 

"A-ah..." Brokenly, his father holds Moulin with two hands. He rested his head on his child's hand to feel his skin and the faint beat of his pulse. Something inside him rips out, and tears fell from his eyes. 

His child is alive.

Moulin is alive. He is here in front of him, alive and well. 

Seeing his weeping father, Moulin could no longer bear it. He spread his arms and embraced his father tightly. Warm tears fell from his lovely eyes, streaming down his cheek to his chin. He was thankful, joy and sadness bursting out of his heart. Finally, his father had recognized him. He is back. 

........

The bustle in the courtyard was loud. The loud drag of hooves scraped the stone endlessly as a herd of horses was brought in the middle of the busy area. 

Sharpening the edges of her spear, Ghana, the warrior, lifted her eyes and greeted the Veresyah, presenting her mount. Her blue eyes carefully examined the horse-like creature brought before her. The horse was rather larger than normal. The shine of its black coat was captivating as well as the glow of its burning orange eyes. Like a flame was scorching within its body. Its hooves were wide and thick up to the rest of its legs. Overall, Ghana was more than impressed. 

She raised a brow, "I don't recall the Towers owning such fine creatures."

The Veresyah shook her head. "There are the finest of the pathfinder's horses. Bred to be the fastest and strongest by our beast tamers."

"I see." Ghana nodded. 

When the Veresyah went to lead her horse away, Ghana stood as she stared at the mounts. Her eyes drifted to the men accompanying them in the expedition as well as the weapons they would be carrying. Not a single one of them should bring mana-generated objects. Void pouches were an exemption. However, the rest needed to be tossed away. Otherwise, they would have a horde of malibreeds trailing behind them. 

After making sure her men were ready to depart, she headed to one of the sheds, where she found one of her dear friends. 

A corner of her lips rose as she leaned on the doorframe. "All set?"

Jagra huffed as he raised his foot on the bench and buckled his boot. He glanced at Ghana, "Almost."

"Truly, I never imagined that you would join us in the journey. I thought you were never the type to leave the protection of the city." Ghana spoke as she examined the row of identical thin daggers all laid out in an orderly manner. She stroked one sharp edge curiously, "What made you want to come with us?"

The hand on Jagra's straps, stopped. His eyes slowly fell. "It's... a long story."

Ghana scoffed and glanced at him. "Is it because of those dreams you're having?"

"..." 

Jagra nodded. He straightened, bringing his foot down, and clenching his hands. 

His sudden wistful expression made Ghana sigh. Berating Jagra would do nothing now. Helplessly, she could only shrug and face the situation. "Well, if you don't find him. I hope you won't start blaming yourself." 

She went up to her friend and grasped her shoulder. "Come one, let's go. Bring your knives."josei

Jagra held her hand and nodded. After a while, they exited the shed, welcomed by the sight of the men prepared to venture into the dark lands of Corahn.

..........

The blankets are soft underneath Moulin's palms as he sits beside his father. His eyes were red, but he had dried all of his tears. When he lifted his eyes to his father, he could see the smile in his father's warm wistful gaze. Both had relieved their sorrow, pain, and the longing that sits within their hearts. 

The white curtains fluttered as the wind slips out from the slight crack between the windows frames. Moulin released a deep exhale once he had fully calmed himself. He was embarrassed by his tearful face. It doesn't look very manly. 

"Are you leaving?"

Moulin stopped. The sudden question startled him. Then he realized that he wasn't going to stay long, that Hadrian was waiting for him. Reluctance suddenly washes through him like a mighty flood. He is torn between joining the expedition or leaving his father. Clenching his fists, he wondered why it had to be today...

Grasping his son's troubled expression, Lord Dontae revealed a soft expression. Maxille had already explained everything to him. Moulin and Emlen are going somewhere far to save the city. He shut his eyes, recalling the years he has spent trying to bring his wife and youngest son back, driven severely by anxiety and sorrow. The pain was too much. 

And now... 

He lifted his eyes with a faint smile. His gaze scrutinized his son carefully like how one would admire a flower. His son had grown. He's taller, more beautiful, and handsome, just like his mother. 

"Father... I..." Moulin began anxiously.

"No, it's okay..." Lord Dontae shook his head. He bent his head to remove the blue crystal necklace from his neck unhurriedly. "We will have all the time in the world... When you return safely to us..."

His eyes are gentle as he stared at the pendant in his hand. "I... can wait for another month... No matter how long it takes... As long as you come back."

Slowly, he gave Moulin the pendant. Silver eyes glanced at the necklace where his mother's dormant spirit and the body laid within. He reached out and held them. The beautiful blue glow was reflected in the silver rings of his eyes. 

Lord Dontae spoke, "For years, I have searched for you and your mother. Your brothers told me everything about what happened eight years ago. The archives your brothers brought me were an excellent aid for my findings."

"About what?" Moulin asked. 

Lord Dontae stared at his son. His brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth. 

However, someone interrupted him.

"To bring back your mother." 

A voice spoke. Moulin turned his head and saw Hadrian approaching them. His gaze was deep.