"I must return to the Castle now," he said, regaining his earlier politeness. "I wish you a pleasant day—and a tolerable stay in the Forgotten Shore. God bless, strangers."
With that, he turned and gestured for his guards to follow, leaving behind far more unease and questions than reassurance.
Sunny turned to look at Nephis. "What now?"
"Now?" she looked at the gate of the Castle up ahead, manned by three Guards in heavier equipment thatn the ones protecting Giorlanio. "Now, we enter the belly of the beast, of course."
They did not enter the Castle immediately.
Instead, Nephis decided to split up. She had Sunny detach from them and explore one end of the Outer Settlement, while she and Cassie headed in the opposite direction. The objective was twofold: map the general layout and extract as much information as possible about the people living here. Nephis, unsurprisingly, took everything Giorlanio had said with a grain of salt. She would not be satisfied until she verified it herself, building her own conclusions from direct observation rather than secondhand explanations.
They agreed to regroup at the same spot in three hours and went their separate ways.
To be honest, Sunny had no idea how he was supposed to go about this. Walk up to the first person he saw and ask how life was treating them? Casually inquire whether they happened to know any dark secrets about Gunlaug, Sasrir, or this Adam character? Spying from the shadows with Gloomy was well within his comfort zone, but extracting information face to face was an entirely different matter. Still, he decided that the best approach was to act natural and not overthink it.
And so, Sunny found himself wandering through the Outer Settlement.
Dirty tents made from stitched hides and fraying cloth were pitched between larger, decaying stone structures that looked like they had once been proper buildings, long before neglect and desperation had gnawed them hollow. Some walls leaned at precarious angles, supported by scavenged beams or piles of rubble. Narrow paths had been worn into the ground by countless footsteps, winding between shelters like veins.
The place reminded Sunny of the Outskirts. Not in appearance exactly, but in spirit. The same air of quiet endurance, the same feeling that everyone here was merely surviving rather than living. To his own mild discomfort, he found it oddly comforting.
He decided to make a rough loop of his assigned sector before speaking to anyone, noting anything that stood out.
People were everywhere. Sitting on crates, mending clothes, sharpening weapons, cooking over small fires, hauling water, arguing in low voices. As Giorlanio had said, everyone looked young—late teens to late twenties—but exhaustion aged them beyond their years. Hollow cheeks, guarded eyes, scars both fresh and old. Some wore fur cloaks patched together from multiple beasts, others ragged clothing that had clearly been repaired dozens of times. A few sported Memories in the form of boots, gloves, or light armor, their designs too ornate to be mundane.
True to Giorlanio's word, Sunny spotted several more people wearing wooden crosses. Three in total during his walk so far. Only one wore a white robe similar to Giorlanio's; the others dressed like everyone else. He nodded at one of them—a woman with short black hair and a spear resting against her shoulder—when she glanced his way. She returned the nod without hesitation.
Friendly enough, by Sunny's standards.
He passed a small open area where a group of five people were sparring with blunted weapons. Their movements were clumsy but earnest, guided by a slightly taller man barking instructions with the authority of someone who had survived longer than most. Nearby, two girls sat on a broken stair, counting Soul Shards into a small pouch while whispering to each other nervously, as though afraid someone might overhear.
Further along, Sunny noticed a makeshift infirmary set up inside a roofless building. Strips of cloth fluttered in the breeze, stained dark with old blood. A young man with a bandaged arm leaned against the wall, grimacing as another Sleeper tightened the wrapping with practiced efficiency. There was no healer here—only people doing their best with limited knowledge and fewer resources.
The farther he walked, the more subtle divisions became apparent. Certain paths were busier, better maintained. Others were quieter, dirtier, avoided. He noticed that guards occasionally patrolled the perimeter of the settlement, never lingering long, always keeping their distance from the tents. Their presence was tolerated, not welcomed.
Sunny circled back toward his starting point, his mind quietly cataloging everything he had seen. No overt rebellion. No obvious worship ceremonies. Just a mass of young people trapped in a limbo between hope and resignation, clinging to routines because routines were all they had.
By the time he completed his loop, Sunny had a rough sense of the settlement's shape—and a growing certainty that whatever power ruled the Bright Castle, its shadow pressed heavily on those forced to live outside its walls.
Now, all that remained was to talk to someone.