For several weeks, Alaën had been returning to the place where his paws had taken him. This clearing and this house had become a true haven of peace. He still dreamed of this man he did not know and wanted to meet him. But for now, he could only do so vicariously.
Nothing had disturbed him until the day he had to go to town to do his shopping. His magic had gradually returned, and he had been able to take human form by breathing life into a piece of paper.
His animal friends had warned him that something was afoot in the village of Glaçons, but despite this, he went there resolutely. Once there, he headed for the market in the centre of the village, wrapped up in a thick cloak to protect him from the wind. Moving from stall to stall, buying food, he lost himself in the maze of streets before settling down near a fountain. He looked around him, children were laughing and running, when two villagers, whispering to each other, looked at him suspiciously and fell silent when the wizard removed his hood.
The first and second weeks passed quietly. It was only in the third week that rumours spread like wildfire throughout the village. Alaën hardly left his house anymore. Every three weeks, he would go shopping at the market, but the gossip followed him like a shadow. He was accused of everything and nothing. Old Prudence's cow falling ill, the death of the Réclaud family's child eaten by a pig, the weakness of certain adults, the fire at the town hall... Everything was a pretext to incriminate him.
So he stopped going, preferring to visit only once a month in another form. He didn't know where these rumours came from, but they were beginning to weigh on his morale. Until one day, a strange feather landed in his kitchen. Deep black, he recognised it immediately. That damned partridge had found her despite the protection he had put in place. He walked around the clearing, repaired the damaged symbols, and then locked himself in his mansion. He did not forget to destroy it.
And so the rumours grew louder and louder, reaching the ears of the regent. A witch was said to be the cause of all the evil in the region. It all came from a tiny hamlet lost in the middle of nowhere. The people he sent out returned empty-handed once they arrived in the village of Glaçons. No one understood where this witch was, despite all the gossip.
An old woman was always considered to be the guide for these brave men, as the crowd liked to call them. Then this woman disappeared. When asked, the villagers did not know how to respond, as if they did not know her. The rumours persisted until the day a young man with ebony hair, accompanied by a person with translucent skin and magnificent blue horns, arrived. These strange individuals stood out in this remote village.
Alaën had observed them several times, not knowing whether they were friends or foes, before returning home to his books, his laboratory and his large windows. However, he paid no attention to the man with his hair tied in small braids. To him, the man he had seen in his dreams more than once had long hair. He had completely forgotten that he had seen him with short hair. When he was with that evil puppet. Too preoccupied with what people might say, he didn't even notice the look the blue-horned person gave him.
***
Damien and Melia left the next day. They entered the kingdom of Neige in the early afternoon. There they followed the main road to the town of Glacière before turning off onto a much smaller road. Once they arrived in the capital of the region, the two companions settled into the inn closest to the castle. Damien went down into the streets of the city while Mélia stayed in her room. The hunter wandered around for a while and headed towards the guild. He found himself in the middle of a huge hall with several counters. Behind them, the staff were waiting on or attending to several customers. He walked towards one of the women at the reception desk before stopping.
"I'd like some information about the witch quest. Is it still ongoing?"
"Welcome. Yes, absolutely. Would you like to participate?"
"That's right, how did you know?" asked Damien, surprised.
"Well, as you can see, you're not the only one," replied the employee with a smile.
The hunter ran his hand through his hair.
"Where can I sign up?"
"Right here, just fill out this form. Once you've done that, I'll sign the document. You must come to the castle tomorrow without fail. With this paper, you will be able to have an interview with the king."
Damien answered the questions before handing it to his interlocutor, who ratified it. Then he stuffed it into his clothes and left.
Meanwhile, Mélia, who had stayed at the inn, took a feather out of her bag. It immediately disintegrated in her hands. Her counterattack had seriously injured the partridge. The cause behind the explosion in the hall of the pavilion where Alaën was locked up was indeed the sage.
Iel sighed. It was Leila, after all. How could she have made a pact of rebirth with a partridge? Seriously, being blinded by anger is never a good thing.
Mélia took out a new feather, with fine strands of hair attached to the base. They cast a spell before putting it back in their bag. That way, Alaën was safe and that cursed bird was far away. But given the rumours...
They removed an earring that they had kept for a long time. The other one was normally attached to their friend Alaën's earlobe. Melia signed something in the air and the pendant began to glow before fading away. A tiny strand of hair pointed in a specific direction and burned away. North, again.
"Perfect."
They stretched their back before getting up. Now that they knew where Alaën was, all they had to do was reveal their discovery to Damien. Mélia was sure he would like it.
They met downstairs before starting their conversation over a meal.
"What's the news?" asked Mélia.
"I have what I need to meet with the regent. Strange rumours are circulating among the inhabitants that the king is trying to make the witch disappear. But none of these people have come back with any conclusive information."
"That doesn't sound good to me. It sounds like unfounded rumours," said the mage after a bite.
"At least this pass will give us an excuse to investigate without fear of interruption."
Silence fell. When dessert arrived, Mélia, who had been struggling throughout dinner to share her discovery, announced:
"I have more information. Some of it you'll like..." smiled the mage.
Raising an eyebrow, Damien was immediately interested. He felt good, more than good even.
"You found out where Alaën might be? Tell me!" he exclaimed, jumping up hastily.
Mélia chuckled before declaring:
"As it happens, yes. My intuition tells me that these rumours and he have a special connection."
"Tell me," he replied excitedly.
"Well, I'll tell you tomorrow," replied the wise woman Machiavellically.
It was starting to annoy him deeply, and he glared at his interlocutor before sitting back down. Holding his cheek, Melia stared at him amused. It's so funny to tease him, she thought. Seeing this man get so worked up was most entertaining. But I can't leave him in this state of misery.
"I don't have any specific towns or villages in mind, but," they tapped their ear pendant, "my loop told me that something interesting would be found in the north of the region."
Relieved, Damien ran a hand through his hair before replying with a sigh.
"For the sake of my sanity, please don't do things like that to me again."
Lea laughed.
"What can I say? I can't help myself," they declared with a shrug.
"One last time, have mercy on me," replied the hunter with a chuckle.
***
The next day, Damien set off for the castle for an audience with the king. Mélia waited for him at the Bel Air tavern. The hunter crossed the drawbridge and stopped in front of the portcullis. There, he took out his paper and handed it to the guards at the gate. They let him through. Damien heard another one. How stupid! He didn't even bother to count. He didn't care about these disparaging words; all that mattered was being able to meet the king so he could set off in search of Alaën, disguised as a witch hunter.
That is why Damien had put on some worn-out clothes he had in his possession. To change his status from that of a young man who had resumed his quest, stopping and resting along the way, to that of a desperate man who had come from far away to complete this task.
People guided him towards the audience chamber.
The king sat on a green velvet throne. He was accompanied by his court and his queen. Damien knelt and waited.
The regent was so impressed by the noble posture of the person before him, despite his rags. The idea of marrying his daughter to this handsome man if he returned victorious crossed his mind before disappearing as quickly as it had arrived.
Having waited long enough, Damien spoke before the monarch could say a word. So much for politeness.
"I have heard that a witch is wreaking havoc in the area, and with all due respect, allow me to take care of it," he declared.
The king, delighted, agreed to his request. One more person involved in this headache suited him just fine. Especially since the young man before him seemed ready for anything.
"If you wish, you may stay here for a while. You will be my guest. That will give you a chance to meet my daughter. Two birds with one stone," he thought.
But he was stopped in his tracks by some of his vassals and by Damien himself.
"Your Majesty, this beggar cannot stay here!"
"Your Majesty, think about it!"
Amidst all the commotion, Damien's deep voice stood out.
"Your Highness, thank you, but I would prefer to leave as soon as possible. Farewell."
Then he withdrew without looking back, leaving the court upset. He joined Melia at Bel Air, changed his ragged clothes, and then they set off again. He was finally going to see Alaën again, and he couldn't wait!
***
The two rode for several days straight before arriving where the other mercenaries had stopped. At the village of leaves.
"Right, let's get on with our investigation," said Damien once their horses had been stabled at the inn. Every time they asked for information, the locals closed their doors. It was as if strangers were not welcome. Even when they explained their mission, some people refused to listen. As a result, they spent a week without making any progress. So they got to know the locals, and people began to open up.
"How long have these rumours been going around?" Mélia asked a market woman.
"Oh, well, about two or three months," she replied.
Mélia added a gold coin to the woman's hands before she continued her story. "Several weeks ago, a youngster I didn't know from Adam or Eve bought some apples from me. I sell the best in the whole village!"
And the lady launched into a monologue about the value of her fruit and vegetables. Seeing that she couldn't get anything more out of this person, Melia turned away without saying goodbye. As for Damien, he was talking to a glassmaker. The same question was asked, the same answers were given. They met up again in the village square, where a small fountain flowed.
"Apparently, the rumours started spreading two or three moons ago," said Damien.
"I got the same answer. Although I did get some other information. Several months ago, a young man came to buy food. People don't seem to recognise him."
Unbeknownst to them, a fox was watching them from afar. He had seen all kinds of strangers, but these ones were strangely intriguing. Alaën, for it was indeed him, thought: I hope they mean me no harm. Alaën had been following them for a week and had seen no malice in these two individuals. Alaën returned to his haven of peace. Perhaps he made too much noise when he turned around, because an icy blue gaze scanned the spot where he had been before turning away.
"Damien, I saw something move..."
The earring immediately began to shine. Damien, I think Alaën was there.
"Where? Tell me!" he whispered urgently before looking around him.
"Calm down, he's gone. I can't sense him anymore."
"Damn it! I've been looking for him for over a year and I missed him?" he exclaimed, pinching his nose. "Why didn't he come to see us? He knows us, too!"
"Damien, Damien! That's enough. I know it's been three years, but don't crack now."
"You're right," he whispered. "I'm leaving. Don't follow me," he finished, turning away without another word.
"Damien! What a desperate man," sighed Mélia. "Well, I'll try to see what I can do. We can't go on like this."
Mélia returned to the inn. They settled into their suite before removing the earring. And staring at it. They thought: one of two things has happened, either something has happened to Alaën, or that damn partridge has done something again. Damn it, what a pain! they exclaimed aloud.
After running away, Damien found himself alone. He walked towards the forest before sitting down in a clearing near an old oak tree. Why? Why? Is it because I didn't come sooner and you're taking revenge on me? Alaën, tell me! No, he wouldn't do that. Alaën, I miss you so much.
He rested his head in his arms, tears welling up in his eyes, even though he wasn't someone who cried easily. Meeting Alaën had changed him so much.
Damien looked up at the sky, then closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Meanwhile, Alaën, who had returned home, left again immediately. These people intrigued him. He began to follow the man who had walked away from his companion. The individual did not turn around despite the number of times he had cracked branches. He stopped when the hunter settled down against a tree.
He thought he heard his name. But it was not an auditory hallucination. It sounded so good, thought the blissful sorcerer. Hearing nothing more, Alaën timidly approached the man, before stopping beside him. Now that he saw him, he looked very much like the man in his dreams. Could it be him? Alaën remained glued to the sleeping man's dashing face. The more he admired him, the more he liked him. Fragments of memories emerged in bursts, but they disappeared before he had time to realise what they were. The fox wizard was so preoccupied that he did not notice that the hunter had woken up. Damien's eyes widened. It was a miracle for him; his Alaën, he was sure, was standing before him.
Cautiously, he brushed the fox's fur, and a small smile appeared. Feeling a gentle caress, the sorcerer pulled himself out of his thoughts before leaping away from Damien. His eyes looked at him suspiciously. The man was handsome, but had he allowed him to caress him?
"You know, it's better to ask than to just do it. Were you taught good manners?" Alaën said, displeased.
Damien's lips parted, but no words came out. Didn't he recognise him? How?
"Alaën, don't you know who I am?"
"How do you know my name?" he asked suspiciously.
Damien sighed: "I know you. I've been looking for you for a year. I didn't think I'd find you here. So I'm surprised."
"Mm, very well, I believe you. Not because you're handsome, but because..."
"Because what?" asked Damien, amused.
"I'm not going to tell you," he finished, before thinking aloud: "Because I see you in my dreams. Does that count? I trust you, and I doubt you're in cahoots with that bird of ill omen!"
"Well, thank you," chuckled the hunter before asking, "Do you mind if my companion joins us?"
"No problem, and it's better if I don't go into town.
"If you'd like me to carry you, Sir Wizard."
Alaën jumped into his companion's embrace before settling down comfortably. Damien, his fox wizard in his arms, set off again for the village of Glaçons. He had finally found him, but unfortunately in a sorry state. Damn that partridge! And for your sake, I'll get it back for you.