A Gorgeous White

Chapter 308: The Search

The rough ceiling was akin to the wild barren land, a hopeless wasteland. However, like stars that blanketed the night sky, countless gems and crystals filled its surface. It appeared as though jewels resurfaced from beneath ita wondrous sight for all to see. The magical glow from the sea of gems was enough to fill the halls with light. People, mostly orcs, bathed underneath its brilliance.

The audience streamed all over the area, exploring with intrigued expressions. They dragged a few slaves for entertainment, taking the opportunity of amusing themselves before the festivity commenced. Their eyes often glanced at the most eye-catching area in the halls, the throne. The steps beneath the elevated platform were filled with men and women, skin exposed to every gaze in the room. They took turns entertaining the masters seated on the platform. The Lions were more than pleased with the attentionespecially the lone orc sitting on the throne.

Before, this was once a hall filled with righteous leaders. The celebrations held under the crystals were mostly to welcome brave pathfinders or hold feasts for the hungry. Now, every bit of its decency was stripped away.

A roar filled the halls, silencing the chatter and pausing every movement. The Orcan Lord had risen from his seat and signaled the celebration to begin. Of course, the feast would have to wait until later. He wasn't the only one to be savoring their new livestock. The crowd cheered, applauding before they settled to their seats. Two rows of soft sitting cushions were placed before the extended walls of the halls, and as the audience had settled on their seats, the center of the halls were vacated. Excitement bubbled in each and every one of the people. They heard the entertainment prepared would be wonderful, a delicious sight. They certainly could not miss it.

With a ferocious look and his platinum strands cascaded down his bare chest decorated with only a necklace of fine gold and the tattoos of his clan, the Orcan Lord leaned back. His leonile ears perking at every sound that comes to him. His nose sniffed the air for anything peculiar.

As the music began to ring in the air, behind the curtains of the performer's passage, a particular group waited for the announcement of their entrance. Peeking Between the layers of gauze curtains, Selia's lips thinned as she eyed the eager audience. The first batch of performers have already entered, their nearly-bare forms, swayed and the chained coin belts jingled. A singer stood in between, and her voice graced the air beautifully.

Everyone was so enchanted and immersed in the performance that none of them noticed a long black serpent climbing up the pillars. Not even the masters could detect it.

Malyana's eyes opened slowly. A smile curved on her lips. "Harow is taking action."

"Good," Jagra mumbled, bothered by the tight sash around his waist.

The rest of the men were as restless as him, but their expressions were calm. Within the presence of a particular Lord, they could not help but keep a strong front. Lord Hadrian Hercullio stood at the back. His dignified posture was intimidating as well as elegant. The robes he wore made him look regal, gold against black, swirls of embroidered patterns climbed from his waist up to his chest. Hair combed back, and a mask painted with gold concealed his handsome features. He held two tasseled swords at his side. Selia swelled with pride at her work.

"It seems Nhero and his others have successfully entered the inner palace," Jagra spoke, turning to Hadrian. Moulin and his company kept a tracking stone with them. The mana around the palace was potent enough to disintegrate the stones once they touched the barrier. Jagra could no longer sense their presence. Therefore, he assumed his friend, as well as the others, had hopefully succeeded.

"Splendid." Malyana closed her fan. Hopefully, Harow could finish his job quickly. They needed the perfume pouches to be planted as soon as their performance started. There were more Orcs here than she thought. The perfume could hopefully null their sense of smell without them suspecting it. "Moulin and his company should be heading to your comrades at this moment. Let us hope to give them enough time for their rescue."

"And after this?..." One of the men asked. Silence then enveloped the group. Only the faint beat of the music could be heard.

Malyana smiled, and she turned around to face them. "Afterwards, my people and I will paint the walls red. You are all welcomed to join us."

"It wouldn't be proper to leave without a farewell," Jagra said with furrowed brows.

"I'm glad you thought so." Malyana grinned. Her gaze flickered towards Hadrian briefly. "I sincerely wish to spend more time with your magnificent purifier before you leave."

Hadrian raised an eyebrow. His reaction caused the others to look away as if they didn't hear anything.

Once more, they heard the deafening applause of the audience and the disguised group shifted their attention towards the curtained entrance.

...........

The hallways were eerily quiet. Not a single guard was in sight. As Moulin and the others ventured deeper into the castle, following the paths the map had shown them, the gems embedded on the arched ceiling grew numerous. Moulin didn't let its beauty distract him as he followed behind his serious brother. Perhaps, he could have the opportunity to admire it someday.

Their steps became quicker and quicker until they grasped the corridor leading to where kitchens were. Suddenly, Emlen raised his hand, stopping before a corner of the passage. The rest of the few men, including Moulin, paused at his lead. Guards and servants were roaming around the area, twenty or more. Must be preparations before hauling out the 'food,'

Emlen furrowed his brows and then turned his head towards Moulin. The rest of the men followed, staring at the aphrodite maeruthan.

"...?" Moulin blinked.

"Are there more tricks in your sleeves?" Emlen asked with a restrained smirk.

Moulin paused for a second before his eyes narrowed in amusement. "Are you allowing me, brother?"

"If you want. We are outnumbered, and we can't risk killing a few servants while attacking the guards."

"Understood." Moulin nodded. Emlen let his little brother take the lead.

Taking a step, Moulin whispered a few words to them. Indeed, he couldn't do this alone. His silver eyes had a cunning gleam. He observed the busy people before the doors of the kitchen. His gut twisted when he saw how the guards treated the servants who were only forced to entertain them.

"One... Two..." Moulin raised his hand. "Three..."

He was quick, swift as a blade, and as fast as lightning. Moulin kept a calm expression as light spilled from behind him. The men didn't even have the chance to react before a cloud of thick mist abruptly spread throughout the area. It was like darkness coming to swallow them whole. They were too late to speak or even blink their eyes as the mist devoured them. A freeze wrapped around their body, too much until the confused people are dizzy.

Suddenly, sounds came from within the fogthe sound of beating.

A few moments later, the mist dissipated. What was revealed was a group of servants plucked and thrown at a corner, while across the hallway was a pile of unconscious guards. A freeze climbed up from the bottom, slowly engulfing them into a painless death.

Moulin stood at the center of it all, watching as his men grabbed and checked the guards one by one. They made sure to maintain silence. They couldn't risk being found out. Fortunately, all the servants were unconscious. Moulin raised his hands and flicked away the frost on his fingertips.

"Well done, little brother." Emlen walked beside him and clapped his shoulder. "Too bad our eldest couldn't be here to see this. How unfortunate..."

Moulin smirked. "Don't let him hear you say it."

"I'm well aware of that," said Emlen.

Suddenly, one of their men interrupted them. "We have a sobered one." The man held the servant to sit against the wall.

Moulin and his brother nodded before quickly striding towards the servant. It was a young man, frail and vulnerable. Moulin was a bit suspicious of how the servant was able to keep his consciousness. Nonetheless, if he wasn't helpful, they could knock him out. Like all the other servants, he wore a thin satin robe. For some reason, his clothing looked a bit more valuable than the rest of the servants in the area.

Trembling as he raised his head, the young man spoke. "P-Please don't hurt me."

"We won't." Moulin lowered himself unto one knee before the young man. Seeing his appearance, the servant was almost in a daze as he met the youth's silver eyes. Moulin caught his stare in his and continued, "How many people are inside?"

The rest of the men turned to look at the servant.

The young man swallowed before he silently thought. "F-Five, the two are elite guards of Leon. The rest of the kitchen staff left earlier."

"Did they take anyone with them?"

The servant shook his head in response. Moulin nodded, and he looked at his brother, who immediately perceived Moulin's stare.

In the next instance, Moulin and others directly invaded the kitchens. They dragged the unconscious attendants inside before scanning the whole area. Not even a fire was lit within. Everything was clean and fresh, as if they weren't planning on cooking anything at all. The thought suddenly left a dark idea drilled in the back of their minds.

"Where's the slaughter room?" Moulin turned to the servant at his side.

The young man's eyes widened, finally realizing the goal of the foreign men invading the castle. He immediately pointed at the door barred with wooden planks. However, he added, "The people you're looking for are-"

Emlen didn't let him finish, for he was already marching towards the door. He broke the wooden planks with one hit and yanked the door open. A cold breeze greeted them, along with the putrid smell of rotting flesh and iron. It was strong enough to make one's stomach churn.

With a pounding heart, Moulin walked past his brother, entering the room. A single torch lit up the area. There was a stone table placed at the center. Hooks dangled above the ground. Some had the remnants of flesh as if meat was ripped as if it was removed. The floor was painted red. Moulin didn't need to ask what it was, for he already knew. There was a set of knives placed inside a wooden cabinet, all stained with blood. Indeed, the place was a nightmare for people and a paradise for flies and rats.

Moulin searched the room for another passage or perhaps another door. And indeed, there was a door at the far side of the room, it almost appeared as part of the stone walls under the darkness.

"Wait!" The servant called for Moulin. However, the youth was already making his way towards the door.

With a kick, the lock broke, and the door was pushed open with a bang. Moulin entered unbothered by the strong smell. Darkness greeted his eyes. A small crystal materialized from his palm, hovering above his skin glowing brightly.

...

It was the dungeons. It reeked of blood and filth. Bowls and chains littered the stone floor.

However, there was not a single person within each cell.