The blade rang as it sliced through the air before it slid into its sheath. The thrumming force remains surging within its steel body. The sword belt, hanging loosely around the wide hip, noised as its owner began to walk. Gently and elegantly, the youth ambled. His long wavy hair of silver swayed with his movements as though hypnotizing anyone who stared at his figure. Numerous servants and brave knights passed him and not one could resist the urge to take in his beauteous and striking features. There was a certain allure to only stare yet not touch.
Moulin shifted his gaze to the open arches at his right, revealing the breathtaking view of the sea of clouds. Silver pupils softened as a tranquil breeze gently swirled around his form. Then the hand on the hilt of his sword clenched tightly.
A sigh escaped Moulin's lips as he turned his head and headed towards his fellow maeruthan's courtyard.
