Chapter 259: Showing Off

The room is filled with murmurs and silent thinking. The windows were shut, curtains drawn, but the darkness receds against the overwhelming warm light of the chandelier hanging at the center of the domed ceiling painted plainly yet elegantly. The clatter of feet could be heard echoing throughout the hall, and voices gathered around the U-shaped table of stone. 

There were chairs, but only a few were seated. Specifically those who possessed higher status, leaders, and chiefs. They were divided. A few were from foreign clans from lands afar. The Morfaers, winged creatures of the beast clans. The Veresyahs, their magnificent antlers, and horns would make one gape and lost in their allure. Sairens, a royal clan of the merfolk. Their skin and features were breathtaking as their powers. And a few of Bramscath, the hidden dwarves who had just unearthed a few years after the birth of Kron. 

Truthfully, each of them did not feel at ease under foreign gazes directed to them. However, for the sake of the alliance, they will have to endure it. At these times, they would need all the help they could get. 

Sitting at the second seat away from the center seat of the table, a particular man silently swept his eyes across the room. His golden eyes were calm as he tries to remember each of the people around him. But he was old, and his memory was hazy. He could not remember those who were unworthy in his eyes. With a sigh, he leaned back and kneaded his forehead.

"Lord Hendrick..." 

The man paused. His gaze turned to the person who approached him. Lord Hendrick exhaled a breath. He recognized the person all too well. There was guilt embedded deep into his soul. It was too much for him to bear, but he forced himself to smile. 

"Lord Maxille." He addressed with a nod. He tried to sound as sincere as possible, as gentle, as kind as he could. It was almost laughable.

The man is wearing a dark blue cape. The crest of his family pinned his cape together under his left shoulder. Lord Maxille Fraunces looked magnificent, as he always does. But everyone knows the ruthless darkness inside the man. 

For Lord Hendrick, it was the first time Maxille had initiated to speak to him. He was surprised, but he didn't show it. 

Maxille revealed a smile as he beckoned for someone behind him. It was Emlen, his younger brother, more ferocious on the battlefield but cold and calm when he trods the land like an ordinary man. The two brothers stood by each other's side. They looked wary and protective of each other. But they were always like this for the past years. It was no longer strange.

"My Lord..." Emlen addressed. 

"Please, be at ease." Lord Hendrick smiled. Once again, he recalled a memory—the day when the news of their youngest brother's death, it was a horrific event. Lord Hendrick recalled Emlen's anguished cries as he struggles to charge towards the gates of his home. The land was cracked, shattering. But he couldn't move forward, for the others held him back. They were restraining him from charging to his death. And Maxille, the look in his eyes was as if he had lost his soul. Like an empty shell. 

They had lost their mother and their little brother. No one could imagine the pain inside them. Clawing and tearing their souls into shreds. Lord Hedrick's mind shifted to Lord Dontae Fraunces... 

He furrowed his brows. Mind slowly aching. 

"Are you unwell?" Maxille asked as he walked to the seat next to him. His steps were slow, and Emlen followed after him without complaint. The young man's eyes were observing the creatures with them. He looked bored, as if there was nothing that could catch his interest. Emlen only wanted to finish the assembly quickly so he could visit his little brother.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps were heard. It the loud as if the ground would tremble against each step. The doors were opened, and two people entered. 

Varick's eyes scanned the whole room. Immediately, silence settled. With a nod, he spoke. "His Excellence will be joining us shortly. However, we are given his permission to begin." 

The ten leaders within their seats nodded in understanding. It didn't matter if Lord Hadrian was late or not. What matters was they couldn't dare to disappoint him. They owed him their lives.

"Very well..." Aklia, leader of the Morfaers, spoke in understanding. "Let us begin." His eyes shifted to his son, Sarion, who was following Varick. 

Varick nodded along with the other leaders. He quietly walked towards his seat. Sarion, his beastman friend, leaned closer behind him and whispered. "I thought there would be a little scuffle. They're unusually calm."

Varick glance at him. "Yes, now return to your father's side Sarion, the Morfaers would rather have their next leader with them than watching him follow a man all day long."

"Tsk..." Although Sarion was reluctant. He conceded and proceeded to stand by his father's side. There was a minor argument, but it ended quickly before voices began to speak out.

The leader of Sairen spoke first. His voice was stern. "The watch Towers at the north hasn't caught sight of malibreeds."

"Obviously, it is the forest that is the cause of their fear." The dwarven leader pumped his large fists on the table. He huffed. "Isn't that convenient? One problem solved!"

"Indeed. Now let us then our attention to the malefics. " Sarion's father, leader of the winged clan, spoke. The golden symbol on his forehead seemed to glow every time he tilts his head. 

Their discussion continued. It was long, stretching for hours. It would have bored anyone in different circumstances. However, now, they could not spare to make lightly of every word. Their reports were vital if they want the city to survive. They will cooperate and share materials if it means to ensure their survival. Kron has devoured the lands and oceans. And spits out horrifying demons and malibreeds to roam the land. Eight years ago, the Kron was invisible energy. It was firm yet slow. However, now it could rot every bone, flesh, soul it could find. It will devour mana and reshape it, corrupt it. 

Their world is dying.

Although they managed to survive for several years, they know they could not remain safe in the future. Kingdoms have fallen, and there was barely a chance for them to rebuild. They were hopeless. The only information they could find was that the cause of this disaster was the demon leader.

The discussion began to dive deeper and graver.

"I hope we aren't late..."

A whisper sounded. Three men walked within the hall as the meeting proceeded.  Two of the men appeared identical. If it weren't for the color of their eyes, it would be hard to distinguish which was who. Their hair was longer. The green-eyed twin had his hair braided at the left of his head while the other with blue eyes had his hair braided at the right. 

The man in the middle was stern, appearing cold and unapproachable. His look was clean, and there was a slight stubble underneath his chin. 

"Fhorg." Tyve, the green-eyed twin, whispered as they finally stopped behind Varick's chair. The man he called didn't even spare him a glance.

The blue-eyed twin twitched his eye, "Shut up, Troid." He cursed under his breath as he restrained the urge to step on his brother's foot like how he always does. Even when they grew to become leaders, the childishness in their blood didn't vanish. Yes, as one of Lord Hadrian's people in the Leonile Guild, they were trained and shaped by the dreadful events during the passing years. Before they knew it, they have become people who chosen to lead. 

Slam!

"What do you mean, we can't make a cure?! Have all my men's efforts gone to waste?" The Veresyah's leader huffed. His eyes narrowed with disbelief as he stared at the Sorceror maeruthan. "Many of my men have not returned just to collect your materials! I will not let them die in vain!" He snarled. 

"Forgive me, but our knowledge of the Kron is scarce! We need the previous research from the elves of Thundralln. We cannot touch the Kron, much less let anyone go near it." The mage explained. 

"The Elves have perished!" 

"Do not say such things!"

"Silence!" Lord Hendrick's voice boomed throughout the room. Immediately, silence settled. 

Kneading his forehead, Lord Hendrick sighed. "Calm yourselves. Let us have a moment to think through our problems. We have a lot on our hands. Our people are relying on us."

"But My Lord, What can we do?" The Sairen leader spoke. His blue finned ears twitched as he turned to Lord Hendrick. "We need a purifier. The Kron will be eating away our barrier soon enough. We need the origin of the ice forest of the north. But it will be difficult."

Varick's eyes slightly widened. "Wait..."

At his words, the discussion paused. They all turned their eyes to Varick.

"What is it?" Maxille said. His gaze was deep and analytic as he tried to read Varick's expression.

Varick furrowed his brows, "You are all looking for the origin of the ice forest?"

"Yes, speak up." The leader of the Morfaers said. Sarion stares intently at his friend.

Varick scoffed a smile. His head shook. "He is here."

"Here?" Maxille questioned.

"He is-"

Suddenly, the doors abruptly opened, interrupting his words. A cool wind entered the room. Heavy footsteps sounded. Numerous gazes shifted to the guests. 

Their eyes widened. Almost immediately, all of them rose from their seats.

Golden eyes, piercing and sharp. They narrowed slightly as the lord moved straightforwardly. The aura of dominance and sovereignty enveloped him strongly. He was daring and ruthless as he penetrated the silence of the room. Lord Hadrian, the High Lord of the Towers, greeted everyone with his eyes. And they swore they felt their bodies shudder. Even if this wasn't the first time, they still couldn't get used to it.

They didn't realize the High Lord wasn't alone as he entered. Behind him was a young man, strikingly beauteous and walked without fear or an ounce of meekness. His silver eyes were bright like pure  moonlight yet they were also fierce like a blade's edge. Who was this person?

Abruptly, the sound of a chair scraping the floor noised within the silence. It was Lord Hendrick who had staggered backwards. Shocked in disbelief of who he was seeing. This... was no doubt... Moulin. 

He couldn't be mistaken. It was him. He could see it in the youth's face. The familiarity was great. 

However, it wasn't only Lord Hendrick who had frozen at the sight of Moulin.

"This... " Tyve's trembling fingers pinched his brothers sleeve. His eyes were as wide as his Troid's were. "He's not a ghost right?"

"..." Troid was as stiff as a statue. 

"He's alive..." Fhorg who was as silent as the night suddenly spoke. He couldn't believe his eyes. How was this possible? And by the looks of his Lord, he must have already known... but how long?

Meanwhile...

Emlen was raging with fury. 'What the hell is he thinking trying to show off his little brother?!'