In front of his follower, the self-proclaimed brilliant Count Brand naturally wouldn't gawk like a country bumpkin. He cleared his throat.
"I had long foreseen the wonders of nature. Building a fortress is a simple matter. No need for curiosity, follower."
"Yes, Count."
Arthur nodded, urged his warhorse forward, and slowly approached the fortress's unfinished gate. The closer he got, the more oppressive the walls felt.
Mud bricks and living tree roots were perfectly fused. Some thick roots even actively wrapped around the bricks, as if reinforcing the walls, or perhaps drawing nutrients from them.
Around the walls, three strange watchtowers rose from the ground. Their main structures were massive oak trees, with stonework cleverly embedded between their trunks and branches to form sturdy defenses.
And hanging from each oak tree was a Poisonous Sting Bee hive, transplanted from the forest. Countless Poisonous Sting Bees flew in and out, like loyal aerial sentinels.
