Pieces in Past Ruins

After lunch, I lay down on the carriage, listening to the chatter, the splashes of the children in puddles, and the clinks of armour and pots as the camp wound down.

Gradually the noises faded, villagers drifting off to rest or wander town, until only the wind and distant squawks remained.

Peace settled over me.

I thought about what to do.

I could find a place to practise with the spear or even keep training while meditating, but the castle on the other side of town had piqued my interest.

I still didn’t know where we were, and since we might leave town soon, I had better go today.

I rose, ducking under the low ceiling, grabbed my spear and backpack, and hopped down, narrowly avoiding the puddle I had forgotten was directly before the carriage.

Past the carriages, I turned left and followed the road.

The chirps of the birds grew louder, bouncing between the narrow alleys.

I considered training mana while exploring the castle but decided against splitting my focus.

This was the first structure of its kind I had seen here. Perhaps it held answers to my lingering questions.

With my hood down, townspeople smiled as I passed. A few told me “Tari lut” in a soft voice. I bowed back, unsure of the meaning but grateful for the warmth of what seemed like a greeting. Children waved at me from their parents’ sides, laughing. I waved back.

They must not have spoken to the villagers yet.

Fear of me, at least, didn’t seem inherited.

I chuckled.

Soon I reached the stables. From here I could only glimpse the castle’s entrance and part of the connected structure, the rest hidden by the ruined walls.

As I approached the castle, I noticed it was slightly elevated on an incline, with its entrance its lowest point.

A large courtyard presented itself before the bigger, central tower. It was gravel and scattered rock formations, slightly concave below street level.

Was this once a moat?

There wasn’t enough water nearby. I doubted they could have filled it. Maybe with water magic, but I wasn’t sure it existed yet. Or it was simply a ditch dug to slow attackers.

The gravel rattled underfoot.

The entrance had a curved stone-brick path, raised like a bridge.

It was a huge, dark pointed-arch door, its frame built on a line of stone bricks. Metal strips extended from top to bottom, and chains dangled uselessly at the side.

Above the door, chiselled into a single block of stone, was a faded coat of arms.

Most of the details had disappeared, but I could still make out an oval shape with a cross going all its length on the inside.

Faint symbols lingered in each of the four divided squares. A crown sat on top, while a tower was carved on each side, and a ribbon lay underneath.

I couldn’t tell if it was this town’s crest or something else entirely.

There was no metal gate blocking the door or any groove indicating the presence of one in the past.

The door belonged to a lone high tower, with a pointed roof and small windows, and was linked to the rest of the castle by narrow stone corridors.

There weren’t any traps on the outside. It lacked most defences I was used to seeing in medieval European castles.

It didn’t look like a fort but rather somewhere the heads of the town would gather.

I wandered around the castle, trying to grasp its purpose before attempting to get in. Dust lifted in the breeze with each step.

I rubbed my hand against the rough texture of the walls, tracing the bumps with my fingertips.

The sloping ramparts elevated the main walls. Framed by the outer ruins, they created a valley where birds’ chirps echoed beautifully.

The small park I visited this morning was likely on the other side.

Vines draped over the ridges of the eroded bricks.

The walls looked like a grey canvas, streaked with splashes of green as plants sprouted from the cracks. Algae clustered densely along the slanted edges, where rainwater naturally flowed.

The main building was considerably large.

Following the outer walls down the sloped ditch, I reached a second grassy area, still flooded from yesterday’s rain.

It was totally shaded, nestled between the castle and the town walls. The grass swayed with the rustling of the leaves.

Small creatures darted through the tall grass, gnawing at the tufts.

They were dark, with thin, long tails, but I couldn’t make out more. They looked to be some type of rodent, way smaller than the one I had encountered in the forest, comparable to rats.

It all felt strangely close to me.

For some reason, it reminded me of my old world.

I couldn’t really describe the sensation, but the fact that this world also had a history of its own brought me a sense of familiarity.

I turned around and walked back to the castle’s entrance, this time approaching its door. In place of the doorknob was a broken metal piece covered in rust, likely to break off with a pull.

Was it alright to enter?

I hesitantly pressed my hand against the cold metal and worn wood, but the door didn’t budge, seemingly stuck in place from years of being closed.

Digging my feet into crevices on the ground, I pushed my whole body against the door.

After a few seconds, a deep groan and several piercing creaks welled from it, echoing a scraping sound as the door dragged against the ground.

A gust of dust blew toward me as it opened.

I coughed, my hands flailing before my face to shoo it away.

As the sunlight pierced the darkness cladding the insides, faint outlines of stone pillars and scattered debris jumped into view.

The air smelt stale, heavy with time.

Dust swirled like dark clouds of soot.

The moment I set foot inside, a high-pitched shriek echoed from the fragile wooden planks as they bent beneath my weight.

The floor wasn’t safe, damaged and severely weakened.

Curiosity took hold.

I knew the risk, but I wanted to look further into the castle to see if I could learn something from it.

The first tower was relatively narrow.

Beside four large stone pillars, one on each corner of the room, I could only see a dim corridor where light from the door didn’t reach and a ladder on the opposite wall to the door.

Despite the danger, I decided to check the upper floor first.

I climbed the ladder cautiously, one foot at a time, feeling the weight shift on each step.

I poked my head through the hole but could barely see anything.

Small windows let sparse light filter inside, highlighting the buildup of dust.

To my right was another door, likely leading to the overpass of the outside wall, above the first-floor corridor.

I finished climbing and slowly made my way towards it. The boards wept loudly with each step.

The door was shrouded in darkness, its figure hardly visible.

I rubbed my hands against it, trying to feel its texture. It was very similar to the entrance door, but this time, the handle was a solid metal ring.

It didn’t feel all that rusty on my fingers, so I tried to pull on it, but this door was also sturdily locked in place.

To avoid putting too much pressure on the planks underfoot, I put my right foot up on the wall to serve as leverage.

Once again, I heaved firmly on the handle, but to no avail. It groaned unpleasantly as the metal pieces ground against each other.

I repositioned my foot flat on the wall and gave it one more try.

A metallic click echoed from the door’s lower half, turning to several sharp rasps until it finally burst open.

The abrupt movement of the door made me lose balance, slipping on the dusty floor.

I instinctively twisted mid-fall, hitting my back but keeping my head from cracking against the boards.

A wave of dust was launched into the air.

I paused, lowering my head to the ground. The floor creaked louder, its wood flaking beneath me.

I chuckled, utterly still, waiting for the noises to stop.