The solitary figure stood admiring the gloriously incandescent sun; it was a rather pretty sunset tonight. He approached the castle ruins that lay before him, scarf flapping in the evening breeze and mace tinking lightly against his greaves as he strode. It was a curious thing, these ruins; for one, they lay against the cliff face, meant to protect or hold what, he did not know. Large wooden doors reinforced with iron swung effortlessly open, no hint of neither lock nor mechanism, nor even any use whatsoever; odd, he thought.
The interior was pretty standard from what he'd seen from other castles, such as courtyard with fountain, barracks, kitchens, main keep, etc.; well, aside from the distinct lack of roofing and even walls on some, of course. Straight to the keep, he knocked on the door and called out with a resounding 'hello', but it was met with no reply. He flung the doors wide, slamming one into the wall from which it was hung. A bit of mortar crumbled and fell from the impact, drawing his attention to a hole in the wall not two meters to the right, well big enough to fit through. He chuckled.
A moth-nibbled rug spanned the length of the hall ending at the foot of a great throne, just big enough for himself and a half. It was simply made, yet held much presence and had this air of grandeur that was very noticeable. There were four other doors in the room, and a staircase which led to more doors on the next floor, or at least it would, had the second floor not fallen some ages ago.
He sat in the chair; it wasn't too terribly comfortable, but it did provide a good sense of power. Standing, he noticed a small switch underneath the armrest. Click! Behind the great throne, a bit of dust and cobwebs fell from the cracks of the newly open passage. Naturally, he walked in and put his hand to the wall; damp and very dark. There was no illumination, save for the bit of sunlight that fell through the cracks, and even that was receding.
Liberating a torch from its holster on the wall, he lit it. It crackled and burned quietly as it was carried into the dark. The hallway twisted and turned and eventually led into a good-sized room. Barrels of water and boxes of food, some open, some not; emergency provisions, perhaps. He wandered through the small maze and came up to another hallway, angled down at a fairly ominous angle.
He passes several more rooms not filled enough to warrant further investigation, but each leading deeper and deeper into the darkness. The air was becoming stagnant and it seemed to be getting impossibly darker. At the bottom of a stairway, the halls opened up. Iron doors lined the walls and another staircase lay at the other end. He took the key from the hook in the wall and walked down the rows of prisons, being careful to check each. Nothing but rags and bones; poor souls left to die by the old masters.
Several more halls of the same later, he arrives on the deepest floor. The layout is similar, except for the heavy door in place of more stairs. He peered in the food slot, nothing but dust. He sighed; this castle was not the one. He began backwards and was halfway through the hall. Whump! He wheeled around to see what struck him. It was a little golem, no taller than his knee, smacking him in the shin rather weakly. Placing the torch on the wall, he picked it up and held it at a distance with both hands. It did not like this.
"Young Master Golem, you'll not dent this armor; tell me, where is your creator?" He said, with it feebly wailing at his bracers. "Fine then, supposing you cannot speak, can you show me to them?" The golem stopped and nodded, and was set down. It sped off and knocked on the heavy door; it opened enough for the golem to slip through. Angry whispers in the dark were too hard to make out, but he knew the importance of manners, so he twiddled his thumbs, waiting for the creator to come out of their own accord. The door opened again; the golem ran out and up the stairs.
Much to his surprise, a child stepped out. No older than fifteen, to be sure, but perhaps much younger. Very tall and lean for his age, but still half the height and a quarter the width the knight. He'd heard tales of a child prodigy hidden amongst the ruins of some old castle, lucky that he'd been found in the second of three possible structures. The child carried an aged tome that seemed to emanate... something; it was rather off-putting, for sure!
