Several days have passed before Moulin was finally able to leave his room. Although he wondered why he was persuaded not to leave his bedroom, he only nodded in obedience to his mother. When the day finally came when he was allowed to leave his room, he sighed in relief. He was suffocating in that room. He thought being obedient was the right thing to do when in front of your parents, but now, he believed that it wouldn't hurt to disagree sometimes.
While Moulin jogged towards the training grounds with Snow, his skin moistened from sweat and lips parted from steady breathing, he came across two people walking ahead of him, stuck in a serious dialogue. His silver eyes narrowed and he slightly twisted his body towards another direction to avoid the pair. Unfortunately, he was spotted by one of them...
"Good morning, young master" Phaelona greeted Moulin with a smile and a guilty-looking Colahn stood beside her, bowing.
"..."
Moulin halted his steps and turned to face them, expression passive. "Good morning..."
"I heard that your ability was finally revealed. Pitifully, your body has suffered from the strain of your internal soul right now. If it was me I would've done a more painless and accurate job..." She flashed Colahn a smile who in turn glared at her in annoyance.
"Is that so..." Silver eyes only blandly gazed at them. "Carry on with your little competition then... " With that, he continued to jog without even sparing a glance to their reaction. Snow huffed and followed his master, his tiny feet scurrying to catch up.
Phaelona watched the departing back of Moulin's figure, her brows furrowed with unease. It appears she still wasn't forgiven.
"It seems we are not in his good graces..." Colahn sighed, his hands held behind his back. He glanced at Phaelona's fair face with a frown saying "That was a foolish greeting, you elven mage. If the third young master doesn't lift his grudge towards us, the Lord and the heir might drown me with work."
"Hmm..." She looked at him in the corner of her eye. Her smile flattened, "Moulin isn't as childish as you think he is anymore, aren't you aware by that? He could've attacked you without a thought last night when you had to recklessly test him but he didn't. Clear away the grime in your eyes, Seer. The third young master isn't foolish, he is still young, yes, but he seems to be more thoughtful of what people around think of him. With such strength like his, if he could cultivate it tremendously he might bring the Grand Fraunces Family into higher heights. Don't you agree as well?"
He lowered his gaze, thinking, "I do..."
Light platinum lashes lowered slightly, her eyes merrily smiling along with her lips, "Moulin is such a pretty gem... His hair is like an ethereal pearly sea, flowing in glowing waves. His eyes, sharp and heaven-like, as bright as the stars under the Meiundran night sky. His skin, soft, an enticing allure clear from even the tiniest of blemishes! A tempting beauty! Even the prettiest of deities will grovel at his rosy feet! My! My!" Her eyes squinted with excitement, a bubbling obsession filled her bright eyes. She palmed her cheeks shaking her head, uttering every beauteous aspect of Moulin.
The seer looked at her strangely. He took a few steps away from the crazy woman by his side, creating a safe distance. Colahn knew he should not even be with this woman right now if it wasn't for the Lord's order to decide a trainer for Moulin's cultivation, he could have been spending the rest of his day in his office sleeping without the care of the world. What fate...
Concurrently, the third young master of the Fraunces Household was polishing his sword skills, he was still clumsy but he could manage. The sword was heavy... its weight rested heavily on his palm as he forcibly lifted and dragged his grip down as he lowers it. However, no matter how much he swung the sword, his body could not easily adapt to the techniques he most of all wanted to master.
Droplets of sweat dripped down his forehead, the sleeveless uniform clung to every curve of his body. He brought the blade to his face, the glare of light flashed across his reflection.
He missed the snow. He missed the frigid vast sheets of snow, knee-deep, stretching across the mountains of the north. He missed the lake, where he walked barefooted on its starry surface under the dazzling night sky. He didn't have to care about anything. He missed lashing out in the open without anyone minding his own business. How calm and silent it was...
His hand grew colder as it gripped the hilt of the sword, 'I didn't have to think about anything back then. I didn't need to do anything stupid, I didn't even need to care about anything at all'. A thin sheet of frost spreads out beneath his hands, covering the surface of the hilt. But... when he remembers the warm gentle smile of his mother, the strict but doting eyes of his father, his brothers' strange worrisome attitude, Pola... he couldn't dare to let go anymore... even though all of this wasn't originally his...
... He lifted his sword and once again began training.
The sharp swish of Moulin's sword sounded within the unusually silent training yard. Unknown to the third young master, a few brave spectators dare to peek at the slender form of their famous third young master. They gathered behind the ajar door of the enclosed training yard, whispering to themselves.
' The third young master is working so hard, even though he had just awakened his ability, he's practicing really well'
'Shh... don't make any noise. What if he hears us?'
'Look at him, so frail-looking. What if he hurts himself?'
'I never thought he had hidden his ability all this time. I heard he had saved the people in the Moonflower gathering in Faerim city'
'I did as well"'
'Brilliant! Brilliant! Our Fraunces Nobility is absolutely unstoppable!'
"You people... " A growl sounded in one's chest.
The men stiffened.
They all turned their heads and cowered. Their identical uniforms shuffled as they all gathered together backing away, pressing against the wooden doors of the private training yard.
"What are you doing in front of the young master's training yard?" Captain Vidola glowered his orange eyes at them, his tone threatening while he folded his muscle-bound arms across his chest.
The men behind the front nervously nudged the first person in front of them. Like a flock of frightened chickens, they straightened their backs while waiting for their scapegoat's alibi. The poor man with the moon-round face and sunburnt skin saluted "Captain!".
Sarto raised an eyebrow.
"We... uh... we were curious about the young master so we..."
"Peeking like vermin shmucks? Creeping behind doors like buggers sticking to wood?! MOVE!" He yelled in his gruff voice. His words boomed across the field.
The junior knights immediately parted into two rows, making way for their captain to pass through. Sarto remembered each and every one of their faces as he walked past them. His hands reached for the round metallic handles of the massive doors, grasping to open.
In the same instant, he frozed. His expression changed as he swiftly stepped aside, away from the doors, earning him the confused looks of the men around him.
BOOM!
A strong gust of frigid wind burst the doors open! It caught the men off guard and they stumbled back from the force of the icy wind. It nearly toppled Sarto's sturdy frame as he raised his arm to shield his face, a string of curses escaped his mouth. A sheet of frost covered his arm spreading outwards.
When the wind finally reduced and the field was once again quiet, a series of painful groans sounded one after the other. The knights who fell struggled to stand up, rubbing their arms for the need of warmth. It was damn cold!
Sarto lowered his arm and glanced at the frost covering his skin. What was that? He lifted his gaze to stare at the misty entrance of the young master's training yard. It completely concealed the inner yard in a smoky chilly haze.
A figure hastily exited with strong steps. A puff of chilly air escaped from lush lips and his eyes were cold, irritation covered his dim silver irises. A sheet of snow spreads out from his footprints as he walked. When his figure was revealed from the mist, Moulin stopped.
There were people outside his training yard. His eyes widened in surprise. Why were these people here?
"Third young master..."
Moulin's gaze locked on the burly man with sunset eyes, "Captain..."
Sarto nodded, brushing off the frost on his arm. He frowned at his men's poor demeanor in front of their young master. The knights took the hint from their captain's glare and swallowed before fixing themselves. Their actions were evidently clumsy as they stood and saluted respectfully to Moulin.
The corner of Moulin's lip twitched, he wanted to laugh but thought it was rude, so he kept a chuckle to himself.
Knights: We can see it! He almost laughed!
Moulin cleared his throat and smiled at them, "Forgive me for my thoughtlessness, I did not know there were... people behind the doors"
Swayed by his smile, one of the knights quipped, "No, we're the ones at fault!"
"Young master does not need to blame himself for us... We were... being rude"
"Yes! It wasn't young master's fault!"
They said their remarks one after the other with enthusiasm. Moulin only blinked.
He chuckled, "Then let's just deal with it as an accident. I'm relieved no one was hurt". Moulin then nodded at Sarto. The captain bowed to him in return.
With a wave, Moulin bade goodbye as he walked away.
Once he had disappeared from their view, the place once again fell into silence. The mist had already dispersed into the warm air of the day, the sudden cold gradually vanished, replaced by the heat.
" Cool!"
A lofty voice exclaimed breaking the silence. What followed afterward was the beginning of compliments escaping their chatty mouths. They praised the composure and gentleness of the third young master with lively spirits. Eyes smiling as they all looked at each other, unaware of the glowering eyes of one particular person.
The aura released by Sarto nearly frightened the souls out of their bodies. They all scrambled away from Moulin's training yard as fast as their legs could carry them.
The blonde middle-aged captain gazed at the fleeing brats before focusing his attention towards the entrance of the training yard. He walked inside and could still feel the slight chill in the air around him.
He stopped. Eyes locking on the tiny fragments under his feet. It cracked beneath him, like a crunch to his ears. When he looked around, only then did he realized the shattered pieces of a sword scattered on the ground. His expression changed.
He was stuck in a state of bewilderment when his eyes shifted to every frost-covered walls of the yard. Icicles protruding from the supposedly smooth walls, still heightening in a slow manner. The lone man stood at the center of what looks like a site of an ice explosion, the presence of mana still wafted in the air.
Concealed from the eyes of strangers, Moulin's expression sank. Despite the coldness around his body, his back was drenched with sweat. He couldn't control his ability. Within the vacant training yard of his, he tried to activate his ability. What happened next made him realized that it wasn't the right decision to make. Before he could even blink, the ground had frozen, his weapon shattered out of the cold, and he could not even cease it. Why did it happen? His mana was perfectly stable last time he had checked. What was it that had missed? Perhaps if he sleeps, the voice might give him some answers... Right... That could probably work.
"Young master!"
Lights footsteps halted at the call. Moulin turned his body to his right once he saw the tired figure of his personal attendant, running towards him. A particular little fox followed behind her. It was adorable of how those four tiny legs could keep up with Pola's pace.
"What is it?" Asked Moulin.
"You have a visitor..." Pola huffed before padding her handkerchief on her sweaty forehead.
Visitor? Moulin cocked his head. Pola doesn't seem to be lying as well. Who was it? He had certainly remembered not promising to receive any guests back in Faerim city. In the moonflower garden, the only people who had talked to him were-
Wait.
Moulin whipped his head towards Pola, brows knitted together, "Is it-"
"It's me!"
Moulin jumped in surprise when an arm sudden wrap around his shoulder. His eyes flashed with anger when he looked at the face of the person who had dared to be discourteous with him. However, once he recognized the person who shamelessly acted intimate with him he stopped.
It took him a few seconds to react...
"Alsander?"
Filled with mirth, the familiar eyes of amber gazed at him. He was specially dressed with his hair still messy as if he just woke up from bed. He tightened his arm around Moulin bringing them closer. He didn't regret every bit of his actions, it brought him a new kind of entertainment, witnessing a different side of Moulin's expression and emotions.
He grinned, "Third young master, were you surprised?"