A Gorgeous White

In the farthest part of Aurona, lies the City of Thaeria.

The clouds were listless and dim. Especially circling above a particular estate which was named the center of the Guild of Gold. In a quiet room, located within a vast tower of glass, a regal man stood like a magnanimous sovereign gazing upon the dimming clouds with unreadable eyes.

Huff! Huff!

A loud panting man forced his legs to climb up the endless stairs, in his hand was a sealed scroll tightly held in his grip. At last, when he finally arrived in front of the doors to his Lord's tranquility room, he didn't dare to forget to wipe off the sweat on his face. His Lord particularly disliked an ounce of unhygienic factors present in his people. If they wished to serve him they ought to become as fit as they can be. This thought has mostly brightened the spirits of his followers for they thought their apathetic Lord has a deep concern regarding their well-being.

The Tower of glass wasn't entirely made of glass in a literal term. Only, the topmost room of the massive tower was built from crystal glass especially carrying a small amount of mana. It shined a wondrous gleam as if diamonds were embedded into its walls. Either under the evening sky, the rays of daylight, or even the current dimming clouds, it twinkled when seen from afar. A handful of people have already mistaken it for an everlasting star.

A knock sounded on the thick blurry crystal door. With an almost deafening reply from the Lord inside, the man had steadied his breathing and fixed his clothes as to not disappoint his Lord, he entered.

The room was as vacant as his master's solitary figure. There was nothing except for a desk and a chair made of silver and redwood.

"Your Lordship"

He blew away a few strands of hair from his forehead before his master could turn around. Varick glanced at the dimming clouds which every soul in the guild had known that had literally signified his Lord's mood.

"Late again?..."

Varick swallowed, "Forgive me..."

No excuses, No excuses, No excuses. Varick certainly knew it wouldn't be good if he were to talk back.

The view of the man's sturdy back easily scared the wits out of Varick. Facing the man's back derived Varick from trying to guess the man's expression. Although, he already knew it would be useless to even try. The Lord's face was difficult to read.

Dressed in clothes that could easily deem him a Lord at a glance, his dazzling golden hair neat and groomed, and his striking eyes of gold made Varick or anyone else submit on their knees in a snap of his fingers.

Hadrian turned to incuriously glance at Varick before returning his attention to the view outside the balcony, "Report"

"The people of Veial have scattered. By the time we've we've infiltrated, the Veialeans and their leader have evacuated their hideout. We have captured a few of them and tortured the answers out from their mouths. It seems they have taken refuge in the deserts of the lands of Saakar."

Hadrian raised his brows, "And of the Fraunces heir?"

Varick straightened, "The young lord Fraunces had withdrawn his people from the Veialean hideout days before the evacuation. These weeks he hasn't been active in the Veialean operation. Currently, he's now resolving problems arising in Zenin City..."

"..."

Varick then exhaled as he finished his report. His eyes lock on his master's figure and he waited for Lord Hercullio's reply patiently.

"..." Hadrian's brows creased as he turned to look at Varick behind him. He gave the man a deep look as if he was waiting for him to continue.

"...?" Varick lowered his gaze.

The lord's eyes dimmed slightly, unable to wait any longer he spoke, "Anything else?"

"Ah?..." Varick fiddled with the scroll behind his back. There was a teasing intention brewing in his mind.

Hadrian glowered, this subordinate of his even dared to fool with him. How brave.

In an instant, the crystal room chilled. An aura shoved with preeminence squeezed out the bit of bravery inside the lad. Varick flinched and helplessly looked at his master, "My lord, If you want to inquire about young master Moulin then you could've just asked me directly."

Hadrian gave him a blank look but his eyes were laced with amusing anger. He then calmly glanced at the balcony. "This room is a thousand feet off the ground. Wouldn't you be curious about how a man above such height-"

"Young master Moulin has accepted the Azuran guild recruitment!" His voice was high pitched. He couldn't help himself! What he feared the most after his merciless Lord was being even only a hundred feet off the ground!! How cruel... Varick silently cried in his heart.

It took all of his will and strength to climb up the stairs this high just to report to his master despite his fear! His back was already sweating waterfalls the moment he stood on the last steps of the tower stairs.

Hadrian seems to be satisfied by his ghastly countenance therefore his expression, once again, turned tranquil, "So he did..."

Varick then lowered his gaze, particularly avoiding his sight from the horrific view from below the tower. With slow steps, his boots clicked sharply on the floor as he walked towards Lord Hercullio.

He handed a scroll, sealed with the Azuran Sentinel Guild symbol to Hadrian, "Young master Moulin has great potential. He would become an excellent Leonile guild member. Although, other guilds might try to win him over their side."

As Varick said this he peeked at Hadrian's expression examining if there was even a bit of abnormality present in his master's face. To his disappointment, he found none. With a frown, he asked, "Aren't you even a little bit worried, Milord?"

Hadrian only raised his eyebrows as he spotted Moulin's name on the list of candidates. An amused glint flashed in his eyes which Varick had unfortunately overlooked, "Why would I be worried?"

Varick blinked, 'Did he just feel confidence in that chilling voice? he clearly had not mistaken it!' He couldn't wait to spread the word. He grinned, "Of course, Master should not worry. I'm sure once the young master sees you, he will definitely join the Leonile guild!" He proudly assured.

The lord's eyes grew even more amused. On the contrary, his thoughts were quite opposite to that of Varick's declaration. The doll would surely choose which guild would be best for him to take advantage of. With such profound silver eyes, Hadrian knew Moulin wasn't the type to get involved with other people. The doll must've had secretly intended to accept the recruitment.

"But it seems that there are also a few candidates who are quite promising. From the Right Court, Noble house Guerrataire's nurtured children and the children from the Ducal household Wistoria were also recruited in the name of the Imperial family." Varick quipped as he was thinking.

"Indeed..." Hadrian's voice was so devoid of emotion Varick thought he wasn't listening to him at all.

The Hercullio Lord ignored Varick's silence and silently closed the scroll before handing it back to Varick. He walked towards the glass balcony as if in deep thought. When he stopped, he gazes at the dim grayish clouds.

"The Guild Selection will begin a month from now. Fhorg will see to our preparations. In the meantime, withdraw our people from the search of the people of Veial, they won't be able to go far." A dark glint flashed in his eyes. "And remove the spies from the Fraunces manor, I don't want the little doll to find any rats in his house. Don't tarry."

Doll?

Varick tilted his head in confusion but he nodded in obedience anyway, "Understood, Your Lordship."

Hadrian dismissed Varick with a wave of his hand. Varick exited the room with a pale face as he glanced down the spiral staircase of doom. He swallowed as he began to make his way down.

The fresh breeze blew the stray golden strands of the Lord's kept hair but he didn't pay attention as he only gazed upon the horizon in front of him. A faint smile graced his lips as he thought of Moulin's expression once he heard about his position in the Azuran guilds. It was evident that the lad didn't even recognize him as the Hercullio Lord. But Hadrian was aware that Moulin had already known of his aristocracy for the first time they met yet the young man haven't changed his personality in front of him.

How interesting...

As the blowing wind withdraw the silence of the room, Hadrian closed his eyes. The call in his chest grew stronger as he thought of the young man. Clearly, they've just met. It was unreasonable to name it an attraction. It was as if there was an invisible force pulling his soul towards the silver-eyed youth. The eyes that seem to cut deep into his soul, as sharp and as dangerous as a blade. The fair unblemished skin, as though urged to ruin, bruise, and mark. The redness of his delicate ears, the lush moistened lips, and the unyielding spirit burning underneath his pale skin. The slender limbs, as though breakable, compelled him to graze and bite. The youth look quite untainted... It was tempting. How lovely would it be if the young man was under his mercy...

Desire...

A loud scoff echoed inside the room. Hadrian slightly opened his eyes. The dark glint flashing terribly. What filth, what vulgarity, how revolting it was to completely take over a man's mind. What spell had that youth conjured into him, it was oppressive and irritating. However, it was completely holding him captive.

His dim eyes softened. Although his mind was harboring obscene intentions, he could not help but find the youth's smile, his sharpness, his kittenish attitude quite pleasing.

Unknown to the young Lord, the clouds were dim no more as he began to think of the adorable quirks of a particular boy. The clouds dispersed revealing the bright gentle light of the sun. The phenomenon almost rendered the people in the area speechless...

They have been living under those dark clouds for days that they were used to it. As the light touched their skin they could not help but be shocked... Was their Lord in a good mood?!

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

The days passed and the Fraunces manor was unusually quiet and bleak.

On the balcony of the third young master's room, a particular silver-eyed youth gazed at the skies above. There was a complicated emotion in his eyes as he clenched his fist of the stoned handrail of the balcony.

A whimper sounded beside his feet but his emotions were too arduous for Moulin to pay attention. The silk on his skin seemed cold and the long waves of pearly white hair danced with the morning breeze on his back.

There was a confused tremble in his voice as he lowered his gaze.

Gone... The voice in his sleep was gone.

When he woke up, he realized his sleep hadn't been so quiet as it was before. It was then that he realized that the voice hadn't uttered a word as he slept.

He was confused and lost. The child's voice had been the only comfort in all of his nights. It was there to guide him, to teach him, and to soothe him. So why?...

Had it really disappeared?

It was clearly normal yesterday night. It was speaking to him as if nothing had happened days ago.

...

Was it because of that day...

Moulin could only think of the scene when the child had spoken to him through Alsander's mouth. But the days after had been completely normal.

What could possibly be the cause? There wasn't even a warning...

As Moulin began to think the situation through, Snow stared at his master from below. His silver irises flickering with an unknown emotion.