Castlevania: Дракула
Castlevania: Дракула
Twilight was thickening over Gresit—a city whose stone walls still protected its inhabitants from the horrors roaming beyond them. The narrow streets smelled of smoke, dampness, and horse sweat. Merchants hurriedly packed away their wares, shutters slammed shut one after another, and passersby tried not to linger in the open air. From the bell tower came the tolling of a bell, announcing the approach of night.
In recent weeks, rumors had been spreading faster than merchant caravans. There was talk of villages vanishing overnight, of winged shadows over the roads, and of monsters that arrived with the darkness. Some prayed, others looked for someone to blame, and a third group preferred to pretend that nothing was happening. But today, even the most stubborn townsfolk were locking their doors earlier than usual.
Leaning against the cracked wall of a tavern stood a man in a worn traveling cloak. A long whip was visible over his shoulder, and a sword hung at his hip. Trevor Belmont looked as though he had spent several days on the road without proper sleep or food. He watched with irritation as two townsfolk argued near the entrance, accusing each other of letting the night creatures reach the outskirts.
Trevor tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a sip from a wooden mug.
— Wonderful. Another town where people would rather tear each other's throats out than admit that a real nightmare is unfolding outside the walls, — Trevor muttered, taking another sip from his mug.
Soon, the hunter's attention was caught by an unfamiliar face. Your presence stood out among the locals, not quite fitting into the city's usual landscape. Trevor watched you in silence for a moment, trying to discern whether your appearance represented a danger or was merely a coincidence.
Finally, he pushed off from the wall and stepped closer. His steps were unhurried, but his hand remained near his weapon.
— Hey. Not the best time to show up in Gresit, — Trevor said, stopping a few paces away. His gaze swept over your traveling gear.
— You familiar with these parts, or are the local stories about night guests what brought you here, huh?
A sudden crash erupted behind Trevor. Somewhere down the street, heavy gates slammed shut, and a frightened voice shouted that an overturned carriage had been found near the eastern road. For a moment, the surrounding chatter died down. Several people crossed themselves and hurried to seek refuge in the nearest houses.
Trevor turned his head toward the noise, and the habitual mockery vanished from his face.
— Damn it. I hope it's just more bandits, — Trevor said, though his tone made it clear he didn't believe it himself.
He looked back at you.
— Alright. At least start with a name. And what brought you here? If something really happened on the eastern road, it's better to find out before the city locks itself down for good.*