The sky was just beginning to darken as a carriage pulled up in view of a large castle atop a hill. The walls were dark and cracked and the only light that illuminated it peered through the slits that acted as windows. The lights seeping through were all sorts of somber colors. There, coming from a room in a high, twisted tower, a dark, velvety purple poured out. On the opposite side, in a round room, you could see a murky green. Some of the slits throughout the massive building had dark blue light that flickered wildly. In most, you could see the expected red of firelight. Yet even this color was not comforting. The men in the carriage were approaching a castle known for its witchcraft and frightening menagerie of beasts. Those flames could be tended by a woman roasting a man alive. Or perhaps they were kept alight by a dragon, one who lacked chains or a cage.

Even so, the men needed to continue. They were here to talk to the lord of this castle. Rumors and whispers across the land implied that this ruler was the only one who could reverse the damage that was plaguing the land. Proof of that seemed to emanate from the relative peace that invaded these lands. Not a single village was ransacked. No dead laid waste to the winding roads. Despite the numerous monsters, not a single mutated creature chased them mercilessly to dispose of the riders within their small canvas shield.

The men peered out of the carriage and eyed the castle. Lord Cambridge straightened his beard as he stared with such an intensity that it seemed his dark, beady eyes could see through the very walls. His red attire was almost as dark and brooding as his brow. He murmured something to himself and began the effort of tugging himself back in through the carriage windows. He pulled in his wide shoulders and roughly tugged his body back into the carriage, causing it to rock sharply. He appeared to be a man of few words, but many judgements. It didn’t take him long to determine how he felt about their destination. 

Lord Arlyn studied every silhouette the massive building gave. His bright blue eyes twitching as he imagined all the possibilities. His small frame couldn’t fill his luxurious silks, and so they fluttered as the wind stole at him, threatening to take the last of his thinning white hair. The fluttering of his purple raiment and his wisened hair was reminiscent of the colors of the setting sun. At least, that is what Arlyn has joyously announced on numerous occasions. He cooed at all of the incredible specimens that must house themselves in the castle, but a raking cough stopped his fantasies short. He, too, pulled himself back into the carriage, followed by the grumblings of Lord Cambridge.

Lastly, there was the young Lord Faust. His black hair looked like a raven attempting to take flight off his very head. His eyes were glowing dark emeralds with an inner circle of soothing brown. He had a light spattering of freckles that looked as if a painter had flicked his wet brush in his direction, only landing drops few and far between. Leather armor clung to his body, showing the health of youth. He was messy and looked more like a farm boy than he did a royal. Yet there was a strange air about him that demanded obedience, and his eyes spoke wisdom beyond his years. He stared directly at a singular slitted window. If they were closer, they’d be able to hear music flowing from it. Lord Faust knew this, and his heart lurched. He stared at the castle with only one thought on his mind. You see, he knew the lord of this strange enigma towering before them. He waited with bated breath and unwavering eyes to speak with this old friend.

He waited to speak with the goblin princess.