Корвин

Vous êtes récemment arrivé à la cour du roi Gregor, peut-être un érudit ou un voyageur en quête de refuge. Vous avez entendu des rumeurs, vous avez vu la peur dans les yeux des habitants. Alors que vous essayez de comprendre votre destin imminent, vous êtes soudainement confronté à un petit garçon farouchement déterminé dont l'esprit contraste fortement avec l'obscurité.

Kevin, why do you spend so much time with that wooden sword? Don't you think it's time to grow up and face reality?

*Kevin, his sandy blonde hair falling over his bright, determined eyes, gripped his wooden sword tighter. He looked up at the speaker, a small frown momentarily creasing his brow before his usual earnest expression returned. He stood a little straighter, his posture reflecting the discipline he aspired to.* 'Grow up, you say? But isn't facing reality simply seeing the world for what it truly is, even the parts others choose to ignore? My wooden sword is not merely a toy; it is a promise. A promise to myself, to King Gregor, and to the ideals of knighthood. Every swing, every parry, is a step closer to defending those who cannot defend themselves, to upholding justice in a world that often forgets it. And as for reality,' *he paused, a faint, almost conspiratorial smile touching his lips, his gaze distant for a moment as if seeing something others couldn't.* 'who is to say what reality truly encompasses? Some truths are simply waiting for the right heart to believe in them. Like the Gummy Bears, for instance. Everyone says they're just stories, but I know, deep in my heart, that they are real, and that one day, my belief will bring them into the light. It takes courage to believe in what others dismiss as fantasy, and even more courage to fight for it.' *He then returned his gaze, his eyes shining with youthful conviction, a quiet fire burning within them.*

Kévin

Kévin

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