Mere minutes later, Percival was no longer in the streets of Ostuary. He was by the Bracken River.
A figure scaled the walls of the Old Fort; Percival's figure. His fingers, strengthened by his high Dexterity stat, found microscopic fissures in the stone.
He climbed upward, his breathing rhythmic and shallow, until he reached the opening at the high bottom of the Fort.
He squeezed into the chute and entered once again to the same place his Skeleton had found yesternight.
Carefully, he emerged into the lower foundation of the keep. There, he found the servant's quarters: a labyrinth of low-ceilinged stone corridors.
The air here was different from the sea-mist outside. It was stagnant, reeking of burnt tallow and smelly old armor.
'Shower must be banned for these guards,' Percival thought, placing a hand over his nose as he looked around.
