Malte made his way down the path, his leather boots wrought with his heels making a "step-step-" sound on the cobblestone pavement. Pen "Fun" Pavilion www.biquge.info

The sound of the sound breaks the silence of the early morning and alarms some of the indigenous people: the rock-turning sandpiper (sexually inclined to climb rocks for food) and the hover bird.

They screamed and flew up, hovering near their habitat and chirping in protest until the traveler passed and the sound faded away, and then flew back to the hillside with some comfort.

Soon, Malte had to stop his steps and stand there watching.

In front of the baron was a hollow valley, only slightly larger than a small valley, sandwiched between two low hills.

There are a few slightly dilapidated buildings on the hollow, and the distance is too far to discern their actual layout.

Hesitate and fear faltered Malte, he didn't know what danger lurked in the dilapidated complex ahead, but as a mage's apprentice, he clearly had no means to deal with it.

It is not possible not to go, and the young baron knows this.

Ever since he had been here in his sleep two days earlier, hunger and exhaustion had never been far from him.

Malte, who had not mastered the means of setting up guards, did not dare to take shelter in the woodland, and had to force himself to walk around the edge of the island.

True, this is an island, which Malte discovered two days ago.

At first, he wandered around the edge of the island, hoping that his men would take him away, but he was soon disappointed that he had not found any boats from the beach.

In desperation, the baron dragged his tired body towards the belly of the island, even though he had vaguely guessed the name of the island in his heart.

Coming to a high ground above the complex, Malte could see an eerie mansion, the central building surrounded by a large courtyard and several outhouses (referring to stables, barns, etc.), and a low wall no more than four feet high enclosing the entire complex.

In the yard there are a few barren fruit trees, and the garden is overgrown with weeds.

In front of the central building sits a fountain, topped by a statue decorating the figure of a woman.

Women kneel on one knee and hold their hands up to the sky.

If Malte was right, it was from the palms of the hands that the pool had not dried up that the water had flowed out.

The baron walked to the fountain and saw that the blue tiles covered with the carved ornaments that surrounded the bottom of the low pool had fallen off and faded with age, and his original worries could not help but relax a little.

Originally, it was a magnificent manor, but it had long since become dilapidated under the erosion of time, and in the baron's mind, even if there was any danger on the island, it must have disappeared with the passage of time.

At the back of the house were several smaller buildings, and he walked into the nearest one, holding a short knife hanging from his waist in his right hand.

It was the knife used to cut the rope on the ship, which Malte had subconsciously hung by his side when he helped.

He was glad he had made the decision, because it was the only thing left in him that gave him some security.

The building chosen by the baron was exposed to the sky, and the roof had long since collapsed.

The red top brick crumbled and faded, lying on the floor.

The walls on three sides are lined with huge wooden shelves, which look like a storeroom.

Malte surveyed the other rooms and found that they were all of the same structure, as if the entire complex was made up of many storage rooms.

He walked into a nearby building and found it a huge kitchen with a stone stove in the corner, large enough to cook multiple cauldrons at the same time.

At the back, there is a fire trough large enough to grill beef ribs or whole lambs.

A spectacular slate stone stands in the center of the room, with countless traces of knives and axes.

"To have this kind of kitchen, if not a large number of people, means that they eat more than ordinary people think. ”

The scene in front of him lifted Malte's slightly slowed heart again.

Of course, he didn't believe that there were a large number of human beings living here, although the area of the building complex was very large, and there were many houses, but from what he had just observed, most of the houses here were warehouses or something, and there were very few places to provide rest, so no one could sleep in the storage room or courtyard for many years, right?

Glancing at these big kitchen utensils again, Malte slowly retreated, he couldn't believe that a guy who had more than ten times the amount of food could be a human being.

Trekking across the courtyard of the house, Marte was stopped by the wreckage of a palace, the door open in front of him, one of which had fallen from the lattice that had held it in place.

Walking through them, one can see the huge central courtyard, exposed to the sky.

The whole palace is actually a hollow 'mouth' shape, with huge pillars supporting the roof.

In the very center of the courtyard stood a small fountain, much like the one outside, especially the statue on it, which was exactly the same.

The fountain is broken, and the garden is overgrown.

Malte stepped through a low side door into a dark hallway, where the roof had lost some bricks in places, and the occasional sunlight poured down from it, making it easy for the boy to see the path beneath his feet.

The young baron knew that he would have to walk around the palace before deciding whether or not to make it his temporary base of stay.

He needed a place to sleep so badly that he didn't even bother to look for wild fruits and mushrooms to fill his stomach.

Around the corner, he found himself standing in front of a strange room door and walked inside.

The walls are inlaid with various patterns, and it is the only place that Marte has seen so far that has not been eroded by time.

A variety of marine animals frolicking with almost naked men and women was a novelty to Malte:

Neither the weaving paintings on the tapestries nor the frescoes painted with paint, the kind of silent pigments and delicate details that move the viewer.

These mosaics do not require any details and directly give associations between animals and people.

Like, it's not a patchwork picture, it's a projection of a real scene somewhere.

Malte looked motionlessly at the wall in front of him, the paintings on it gradually came alive in his pupils, and in a trance, a silver bell-like laughter rang in his ears.

The boundary between the virtual and the real, the floor was deeply sunken, like a pool, and a staircase stretched in front of Malte, and he walked down with a gentle step, without hesitation, or rather, without hesitation.

Then, as if an invisible hand brushed through the folds created by the collision of the illusory and the real, everything calmed down, as if the baron, who had disappeared into the room, had never appeared......