The road leads to an entrance made of wooden planks wider than the trailer of a semi-truck. One of the planks is open, and I find myself peering around Westley to see into the home of the Shadow Knight.
Edifices carved out of the same stone as the walls, wide streets lined by lit torches, wooden doors and window shutters painted different colors. Even before we ride unchallenged through the entrance, I'm in love with the understated romance of the city. As we enter, I can make out the light filigree that decorates each façade.
It's as unique and beautiful as the hills - except for the plethora of lifelike statues scattered everywhere. They're downright creepy.
Lost in wonder, I admire everything around me, except for the statues, not even noticing the lack of people until I hear one of our escorts muttering about ghosts.
It's true. There's no sign of life anywhere. The city hasn't been vacated for the impending war; it looks like no one has lived here in years.
We follow the main avenue that wraps around the city, each lap around growing smaller as the spiral tightens, until we reach the open doors of a castle on the hill at the center of the city, directly beneath the eye of the black clouds swirling above. The enormous castle has dozens of spires, towers and layer upon layer of levels, a sign of wealth unlike any I've seen in this world so far. This is what a castle should look like.
I could've lived here. The thought makes my cheeks warm. Then the devastation kicks in, and I want to cry again.
I don't, instead focused on the incredible world around me. The Desert Knight marches triumphantly up to the open gates of the castle without so much as a single Black Moon Draw warrior appearing.
If the statue-strewn streets of the city are dead quiet, the castle's bailey and interior are downright eerie. We dismount and enter through doors hanging sadly off their hinges. At one time, the castle was the height of grandeur. Tattered tapestries depicting great battles hang from the walls, which appear to have been gilded at one point. Flecks of gold and silver sparkle in torchlight. The soaring wooden beams far overhead are almost white with cobwebs, and a thick layer of dust covers the heavy stone furnishings and floor in the massive foyer area.
I'm surrounded by the men of Brown Sun Lake, who halt in the center of the torch lit foyer. Three dark corridors lead out of this area while the fourth wall is behind us, containing the sagging wooden doors marking the entrance.