Chapitre 61: Virgil's Past II
A few years later, Virgil had become an integral part of Tonkilla. His skills as a hunter and tracker were unrivaled, and he had earned the respect of the Lycan villagers. He had grown to understand and respect the ancient ways of the Lycan people, the harmony they shared with the moon and the wildness that dwelt within each of them.
As the moon reached its zenith, Virgil was jolted awake by a scream that seemed to tear from his very soul. His eyes snapped open, the darkness of his room suddenly oppressive, the air thick with the scent of fear and sweat. He sat bolt upright, his chest heaving, the vivid images of his nightmare still clinging to him like a second skin.
He looked at his trembling hand, "Again... Each evening is the same..."
Mari, Lupin's wife, sensing his distress, walked into the room, a tray of warm milk and honey in her hands. "Night terrors again, Virgil?" she asked with a gentle smile, placing the tray on the bedside table.
"Yes," he replied, his voice tight. "They never seem to cease."
He paused for a moment before adding, "I have also prayed to the goddess, performed rituals and meditated, but nothing seems to heal the wound of my past..."
Mari's eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "The wounds of the soul are not easily healed," she said, her voice a gentle murmur. "Sometimes, they are with us for a reason, shaping us into who we are meant to be."
She offered the warm mug to him, her gaze never wavering. "Drink this, it will help calm you."
Virgil took the mug with a trembling hand and drank the sweet concoction, feeling the warmth spread through him like a gentle balm. "Thank you, Mari," he murmured, his eyes searching hers.
....
The village of Tonkilla buzzed with excitement, the air thick with the anticipation of the upcoming festival. The full moon was but a sliver away from completing its cycle, and with it, the promise of a historic event drew nearer. The ruler of Helgarde was rumored to visit, seeking an alliance with the Lycan people. It was a time of celebration and diplomacy.
The sun had barely crested the horizon when Virgil found Lupin in the village square, his fur glistening with dew as he practiced his combat forms. The Lycan leader noticed the human's approach and stopped, his eyes piercing through the early-morning mist.
"Virgil," he greeted, his tone measured. "You rise early."
Virgil nodded, his eyes distant. "The night does not allow me much rest," he said, his voice tight with the weight of his unspoken words.
Virgil watched the preparations from the edge of the square, his curiosity piqued by the whispers that carried on the crisp autumn breeze.
Lupin looked at him and recognized his questioning look, "This meeting will be fundamentally important, it will bring us closer to the people outside this Empire. It will allow us to form alliances and make trade a lot easier!"
Virgil nodded, trying to understand the gravity of the situation. He knew little of the outside world, his life before Tonkilla a blur of pain and suffering.
....
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity as the villagers of Tonkilla worked tirelessly to prepare for the impending festival. The air was alive with the scent of roasting meats, the sound of laughter, and the rhythmic beat of hammers as the final touches were put on the festival decorations. The normally serene village was transformed into a bustling hive of excitement, the anticipation of the event palpable in every corner.
Yet amidst the preparations, Virgil found no respite from his nightly torment. The same images of pain and fear haunted his dreams each night, their intensity unyielding, as if the very fabric of his mind was being shredded by unseen claws. Sleep had become a prison.
On the day of the feast, as the sun cast long shadows over the village, Mari approached Virgil with a gentle smile, her eyes filled with something akin to hope. She spoke in a hushed tone that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand secrets. "Virgil," she began, her voice a soft whisper against the cacophony of the bustling square, "today is a momentous day for Tonkilla. The ruler of Helgarde arrives under the guise of peace, but brings with him a man of great renown, one who may hold the key to your nightly anguish."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and Virgil felt his heart quicken. Could it be that he had found the answer to his prayers?
....
That evening, the full moon hung in the sky like an unblinking eye, casting its silvery glow upon the cobbled streets of Tonkilla. The air was alive with excitement and tension, the villagers' whispers a constant murmur that grew louder as several imposing carriages rumbled into view. The lead carriage, adorned with the crest of Helgarde, was flanked by two others, their windows obscured by thick velvet curtains that fluttered like the wings of restless bats. The horses that pulled them were bedecked in gleaming armor, their breath misting in the crisp autumn air.
The villagers lined the streets, a sea of fur and eyes that gleamed with a mix of hope and trepidation. The clatter of hooves and the jingle of harnesses grew louder, echoing through the narrow alleys as the procession approached the village square. Lupin, standing tall beside Virgil, surveyed the scene with a mix of pride and wariness.
The doors of the lead carriage creaked open, and a figure emerged, resplendent in crimson and gold. Baron Cavinos stepped out, his eyes scanning the crowd.
The man who was to help Virgil with his dreams, a renowned mystic named Esmandeus, followed closely behind. His eyes, a piercing blue, found Virgil in the throng. His face remained impassive, yet a flicker of something unreadable passed over his features. He was a man of average height, with a trim beard and a staff topped with a crystal that pulsed with the light of the moon. The air around him seemed to crackle with unspoken power.
Lupin and Baron Cavinos exchanged formal greetings, their voices carrying over the hushed whispers of the villagers. They climbed the wooden podium that had been hastily constructed for the occasion, each step echoing through the silent night. Virgil could feel the tension in the air, a tension that seemed to coil around his heart like a serpent, tightening its grip with every breath he took.
They both sat down on the table, their postures stiff with the weight of their respective roles. The guards from both sides circled the podium, their eyes scanning the shadows with a readiness that spoke of anticipated treachery. The fire in the central bonfire roared higher, casting a warm, flickering light upon the two leaders as they began to speak.
Baron Cavinos broke the silence, his voice a deep, resonant bass that carried across the square. "Lupin, leader of Tonkilla," he began, his tone one of forced respect, "We come in peace, seeking an alliance to strengthen our city's and ensure prosperity for our peoples."
Lupin met the Baron's gaze, his own voice steady and strong. "Baron," he replied, "we welcome you and your entourage to our humble village. But know that our ways are ancient and our trust not easily won."
Baron Cavinos leaned forward, his crimson cape falling open to reveal the gleaming chainmail beneath. "Indeed, your ways are of great interest to us," he said, his tone a blend of curiosity and calculation.
Esmandeus, the mystic, remained silent, his gaze never leaving Virgil. The air grew thick with unspoken secrets and the promise of revelations. Virgil felt his heart hammer in his chest, the weight of his dreams and the whispers of his past pressing down on him like an invisible hand.
The conversation between Lupin and Baron Cavinos grew heated, the words exchanged a dance of diplomacy and veiled threats. The fate of Tonkilla and the Lycan people hung in the balance, the moon above a silent witness to the unfolding events.
Finally, with a flourish of parchment and a flourish of ink, the pact was signed. A collective sigh of relief swept through the square, the tension dissipating like mist before the rising sun. The document was a testament to the alliance forged under the watchful gaze of Selthar, the moon goddess. It was a promise of peace and protection, a bond that could not be easily broken.
With the formalities out of the way, the real celebration began. The villagers of Tonkilla, their fur now adorned with beads and feathers, let out a howl that echoed through the night, a sound that seemed to resonate with the very bones of the earth. The bonfire roared higher, casting a warm, flickering embrace over the square. The scent of roasting meats filled the air, making even the most stoic of the Baron's guards salivate.
But amidst the revelry, Virgil felt a sense of unease that grew stronger with each passing moment. The mystic's gaze had left an indelible mark upon him, a question that gnawed at his very core. He excused himself, retreating to the quiet sanctuary of his room, the heavy oak door offering a thin barrier against the sounds of the festival outside.
"It even happens when I'm still awake..." Virgil realized. His nose began to bleed and he felt a sharp pain in his head.
Mari's knock was a welcome distraction from the chaos in his mind. She entered the room, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. Behind her was the mystic Esmandeus, his blue gaze piercing the shadows that clung to the room.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone