Chapitre 11: Journey!
When Leonard reached the yard, Alfonso, cloaked in black, was already standing at the main gate. Without a word, he began descending the mountain, his steps silent and purposeful.
Leonard followed close behind, while David, wrapped in a large curtain-like cape, brought up the rear.
At the bottom of the dry dirt path, a black carriage waited quietly. Two bridled horses stood in front, their breath visible in the crisp air. The carriage itself was modest, with four sturdy wheels and a luggage rack mounted on top.
An old man sat on a wooden seat beside the carriage, puffing on a pipe, the smoke curling lazily into the sky. His weathered face and relaxed demeanor gave him an air of quiet confidence.
Leonard approached, handing the man a certificate Ted had given him the previous day. After a brief glance for verification, the old man nodded. Leonard gestured for Alfonso to board the carriage first.
The horses remained calm as Leonard and Alfonso approached, but when David drew near, their demeanor changed. The animals shifted uneasily, letting out nervous whinnies, their ears twitching in agitation.
David stepped toward the carriage, ready to board, but Leonard hesitated. The small interior, barely enough for two, would be suffocating with David's bulk inside. Alfonso glanced at him, his expression calm but firm.
"You don't need to ride with us," Alfonso said. "Follow behind."
David blinked, then nodded. "Understood, Master."
He stepped aside obediently, standing at the edge of the road.
The old coachman, perched on his seat, watched silently. A seasoned traveler, he knew when to keep questions to himself. Years of experience had taught him that survival often depended on discretion. He understood the unspoken rules of the road: don't ask about things you don't want answers to.
Once Alfonso and Leonard were settled inside, the coachman tipped his hat. "Good day, sirs. Name's Kenneth; most folks call me Kenny. I've been driving carriages for over 30 years and know these roads like the back of my hand. Bangor Port's no trouble. If all goes well, we'll be there in fourteen days."
He reached down and pulled open a hidden compartment beneath the seat, revealing neatly stored provisions. "Here's your food: soft bread, truffle juice, and fresh milk. If you're hungry or thirsty, just let me know."
Leonard gave a faint smile. "Thank you, Kenny."
Kenneth nodded. "Blankets and pillows are also in the carriage. I hope you have a pleasant journey." With practiced ease, he snapped the reins, and the horses began to move.
The carriage jolted slightly as it started down the road, but Kenny's skill quickly became evident. Though the dirt path was uneven, he expertly avoided the worst bumps, maintaining a steady pace. The ride was remarkably smooth for the rough terrain, neither too fast nor too slow, just enough to keep motion sickness at bay.
Inside the carriage, Leonard's attention was drawn to a peculiar contraption mounted on the roof: a small drum with visible gears. Through its hollow frame, he could see the mechanism turning with the movement of the carriage. Two small hammers rested beside the drum, poised as if ready to strike.
"Does it hit the drum every ten miles?" Leonard wondered, his curiosity piqued. The device, simple yet intriguing, added a touch of novelty to the otherwise quiet journey.
Sitting in the carriage, Leonard glanced at Alfonso beside him. His teacher had his eyes closed, seemingly lost in meditation.
'Meditating in a moving carriage?' Leonard found the idea hard to believe, but curiosity got the better of him. He decided to give it a try.
Closing his eyes, he tried to calm his mind, attempting to enter the meditative state. Just as he started to focus, the carriage hit a bump, jarring him out of his concentration. Frustrated but determined, he tried again, only for the same thing to happen. After several failed attempts, Leonard sighed in defeat.
Meditation on a bumpy ride was clearly not his forte.
Resigning himself to the limitations of the road, he pulled out the notebook Alfonso had given him and began reading instead. Though there were no specific tasks for him to complete during the journey, Leonard was content to immerse himself in study. The quiet carriage filled only with the soft sound of pages turning, and the hours passed uneventfully as dusk crept closer.
Kenny's voice broke the silence. "Sir, there's a village three or four miles ahead. If you'd like, we could stop there for the night. I know some of the farmers; it's a good spot to rest."
Leonard glanced at Alfonso, who remained still and unresponsive. He understood that the decision was his to make. "Alright, let's stay in the village overnight."
"Very well, sir!" Kenny replied, steering the carriage onward.
As they approached, the village came into view; a small settlement with houses scattered loosely along a dirt road. Beyond the village, golden wheat fields stretched across the plains. The peaceful scenery was soon interrupted by the sound of barking dogs, signaling the arrival of strangers.
Kenny stopped the carriage in front of a farmhouse bordered by a wooden fence. In the yard, a large brown-and-yellow dog with curly fur barked fiercely, its voice echoing through the quiet evening. The noise roused the owner of the house.
"Who's out there?" came a voice from inside.
The dog, clearly well-trained, rarely barked at villagers. Its aggressive barking meant only one thing; outsiders had arrived.
"Hey, Don Quixote! It's me, Kenny!" the coachman called out, leaning on the fence.
"Kenny?" the man inside muttered. "I should've known. The old chain-smoker himself. I bet you smell so much of tobacco even Sweet Potato can't recognize you."
Soon, the door creaked open, and a tall, sturdy man with brown curly hair stepped out. He surveyed the visitors and broke into a grin when he recognized Kenny.
"Ah, it 'is' you!" he said, opening the gate to welcome them. Don Quixote, as he was called, was familiar with Kenny's habits. The coachman often brought guests to stay overnight at the farmhouse, paying a fee for the hospitality and sometimes buying supplies. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.
Reassured by the familiarity, Don Quixote stepped aside to let them in. "Come on in, Kenny. And don't worry, Sweet Potato won't bite; unless you've got more tobacco hidden in your coat!"
"Just one guest?" Don Quixote asked, his gaze settling on Leonard, who appeared unusually young.
"There's one more, making two in total," Kenny replied.
"Alright then. I'll get things ready. It just so happens there are two empty rooms in the house," Don Quixote said, heading inside to tidy up.
After everything was confirmed, Kenny drove the carriage around to the stable behind Don Quixote's house and parked it there for the night. Leonard and Alfonso were each given a room, while Kenny opted to sleep in the carriage.
As Don Quixote closed the doors for his guests, he couldn't help but wonder about their identities. They seemed like a father and son at first glance, though the older man's cloak and mysterious air hinted at something else, he resembled the wizards often described in bardic tales. Don Quixote shook his head, laughing at his own imagination.
Still, times were tough in the north. The weather had been unseasonably hot, and the harvest had suffered. Refugees had started arriving in the area, fleeing from rumors of war. Perhaps these two were escaping from the same turmoil.
---
That night, Leonard sat cross-legged on the bed, meditating.
Outside, the quiet night carried the sound of rustling grass. Something moved through the dense undergrowth, parting it like water, its shape obscured in the darkness. All that could be seen was a massive black shadow running swiftly across the wild expanse, pursued by a tall, human-like figure.
The chase stopped just outside the farmhouse.
In the yard, the big curly-haired dog that had barked so ferociously earlier now cowered, its tail tucked firmly between its legs. Its fur bristled, and a pitiful whimper escaped its throat.
'Creak, creak!'
The wooden fence groaned under an immense weight.
The trembling dog collapsed to the ground, its body quaking. A foul smell wafted into the air as yellow liquid seeped from its hind legs. Above it loomed a massive, scaly head, as large as a water tank, with sharp, menacing features. The creature leaned closer, its dark red core pulsating as it sniffed and licked at the dog's head.
The dog whimpered one final time before fainting.
---
Leonard's meditation was abruptly interrupted by a sudden wave of unease. A cold sensation prickled at his spine as though something dangerous was watching him. He recalled a note in Alfonso's teachings: during meditation, a wizard's senses sharpened, sometimes allowing them to perceive impending danger. Divination wizards even relied on this state for their craft.
Was Don Quixote planning something sinister?
Leonard snapped out of his meditation, his hand instinctively moving to the wand he kept near his pillow. Gripping it tightly, he scanned the room.
Then he saw it.
The faint moonlight filtering through the window was nearly blotted out by a massive shape outside. A huge gray lizard's head loomed, its orange eyes glowing unnaturally bright in the dim night.
Before Leonard could react, the creature spoke in a voice that sent chills through his bones.
"Leonard?" it said, the words unmistakably human.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone