As it happened, the ancient ruin, or rather, remnant, that existed in Wayne's memory was not far from where the group had made camp. It was situated on the northern face of the Black Mountains, with most of its structure buried within the rock, while a portion jutted out between the cliff walls.
In theory, one only had to look up toward the distant Black Mountains to spot parts of the ancient structure embedded in the rock face, several hundred meters above the ground.
Time, however, had all but erased the traces of civilization. Dense creeping vines and mountain vegetation blanketed the cliff walls, burying the ruins layer by layer. Combined with the collapse of the structure itself and the accumulation of soil and stone, the sections that still protruded from the mountain were now nearly impossible to make out.
Standing at the campsite and looking toward the mountain, even a hunter with exceptional eyesight would have been hard-pressed to immediately spot anything unusual amid the rock and vines.
With the camp arrangements settled, Wayne's party of four set off toward the mountains. A mere ten years would not alter the natural terrain, and with the satellite image from a decade ago in his mind, along with his memory of the route into the mountains, the group found the path without much difficulty.
Amber looked visibly uneasy. "Listen... you're talking about going into the Black Mountains to dig up treasure, and there are only four of us. Don't you think that's a bit risky?"
Wayne glanced at the half-elf. "And what would you suggest?"
Amber gesticulated expressively. "At minimum you'd want several hundred people as an escort along the way, a dozen or so master-ranked rangers and druids as the backbone, knights leading the charge up front, mages anchoring the rear, and a grandmaster-tier thief as talented as myself handling the locks and traps, isn't that the standard setup for treasure hunting in the mountains?"
"Standard my foot!" Wayne had actually expected her to have some useful insight, but it turned out to be nothing but nonsense. "What treasure-hunting party is kitted out like a regular army? Besides, you make it sound easy, why don't you go organize a team like that for me?"
"Alright, I may have exaggerated a little, but these are the Black Mountains! The Black Mountains!" Amber waved her arms dramatically. "The place where legends say a demon lord lives every eight hundred meters! And you're heading in with three people, one of whom can only cast fireballs..."
"You want to bet I can flatten you without a single fireball?!" Rebecca immediately flared up, leveling her staff at Amber. "Let me show you just how capable the women of House Seawright are!"
Wayne held back his N-plus-first-generation great-granddaughter and gave Amber a weary look. "You'll get yourself killed by that mouth of yours one day. And where exactly did you hear that a demon lord lives every eight hundred meters in the Black Mountains? That's the sort of thing ignorant villagers say to frighten children. If there were that many demon lords, they would have swept across Andraste long ago."
He raised his head and looked out at the winding mountain path ahead.
"The Black Mountains are genuinely dangerous, yes, but ordinary people have wildly overstated that danger. In truth, during the era of the Gondor Imperium, this range was nothing more than an ordinary northern mountain chain, paired with the Highland Peaks in the southern reaches of the continent, the two were known as the twin great mountain systems of the north and south of Lorath. Back then, the Black Mountains were not dark in the slightest. They were actually famous for their rich natural resources and diverse mineral deposits, earning the name 'the Gilded Mountains.' Sadly, when the Dark Tide later erupted, the Black Mountains lay directly in the path of the most intense elemental storms. The entire southern foothills of the range were corroded by elemental energy, giving rise to the terrifying Black Forest, and that is how this range gradually came to be called the Black Mountains."
Wayne spoke of what he knew, part of it drawn from the memories in his mind, the rest from knowledge he had hurriedly crammed in recently.
"The Black Forest on the other side of the range is genuinely dangerous, but it lies to the south. The mountain range itself is a natural barrier that almost entirely seals off the miasma seeping through the Grand Wall from the Gondor Wasteland. The vast majority of the mutated creatures living in the Black Forest require chaotic magical energy to survive, so they simply won't leave the Black Forest, let alone cross the ridge to reach the northern slopes, a region that would be suffocating to them. The northern side of the Black Mountains is therefore actually quite safe."
The route Wayne had chosen was relatively clear of vegetation, though the occasional wayward tree or encroaching vine still blocked the path from time to time. The plants that managed to grow stubbornly in this part of the Black Mountains were all influenced to some degree by the miasma of the Wastes, trace amounts of the "elemental wind" (what Viscount Andrew had called the unclean wind) that drifted northward on air currents each year.
Under the influence of those chaotic elemental forces, the plants looked twisted and unnaturally thick, giving them a somewhat grotesque and menacing appearance.
But Wayne knew perfectly well that, despite their intimidating looks, these things posed absolutely no threat. They were simply "sturdier" plants.
The noble scions who wandered through the forests on the northern edges of the Black Mountains and then went home to boast that they had braved the Black Forest were wildly exaggerating the danger of the area, they had no idea what the actual Black Forest looked like.
His confidence that the contamination on the northern side of the Black Mountains had receded did not come from his inherited memories or gathered intelligence, but from that satellite image taken a decade ago.
By comparing the satellite image against the data in his memory, it was easy enough to determine that this area was well within safe territory.
"People's fear of this place really comes down to two things. The first is fear of the Gondor Wasteland. Although the sentinel towers and the Grand Wall built by the elves have sealed off most of the Wastes, that magical barrier can only block seventy or eighty percent of the chaotic magical energy. The corrupting force that seeps out of the Gondor Wasteland each year is the single greatest threat to the border regions of all four kingdoms. Even now that the aftershocks of the Dark Tide have faded, the fear and pressure built up over generations among the border populations won't dissipate so quickly, these horror stories from the border regions have been passed down for seven hundred years and have long since become something close to an established cultural tradition," Wayne said, hacking aside the plants that blocked their way as he spoke.
"The second... is fear of the unknown."
"The unknown?" Amber asked with a frown.
"Exactly. How many years has it been since the Kingdom of Andraste halted its southern expansion?"
Rebecca was the one who answered. "Counting from when the order to cease expansion was signed, over two hundred years. Counting from when all settlements in the expansion zone were withdrawn, a hundred years."
"That's right. A hundred years at minimum. For a full hundred years this place has been designated forbidden territory. Apart from those 'adventurers' who come back and brag about it, no one dares come near, which means no one actually knows what it's like. All they have to go on are the horror stories passed down through generations and the tall tales blown out of proportion by adventurers. How could they not be afraid?"
After that lengthy explanation from Wayne, Amber finally let out a breath. "So... what you're saying is that all the scary stories about the Black Mountains are exaggerated, and we're actually quite safe here?"
Wayne thought for a moment, then suddenly put on a terrifying expression and leaned toward the half-elf. "Actually, I was lying, this place truly is grim, dangerous, chaotic, and horrifying, and there really is a demon lord every eight hundred meters."
Amber: "...Eee-YAAAH!!"
"And she calls herself a grandmaster thief. Embarrassing," Wayne chuckled, grinning with satisfaction. He reached over and ruffled Rebecca's hair, then pointed to a tree trunk lying across the ground not far ahead. "Your fireball spell has found its purpose, blast that thing open. If I remember correctly, we're almost there."
Rebecca had been waiting for exactly this moment for a long time. She gave an eager nod, raised her staff, and sent a head-sized fireball streaking straight toward the obstruction.
Somehow it seemed like the girl was conjuring fireballs faster than before...
Boom.
With a tremendous crash, the fireball exploded. The already rotten and weakened trunk was blown apart at the center, the two unbalanced halves tumbling down the slope, and the path ahead opened wide.
A clearing hidden within the mountain revealed itself before their eyes.
The clearing appeared to have been deliberately leveled by someone at some point in the past, the rock face had been cut into impossibly clean, regular shapes. Between the stone, ancient archways and collapsed walls were visible..."set into" the enormous cliff faces as if they had grown there, or as if they had always been part of the mountain itself. It almost created the illusion that a once-grand fortress had been swallowed up by the surrounding stone.
But in truth, this ancient ruin had been constructed within the mountain itself from the beginning. Approximately two-thirds of its structure lay concealed behind the rock walls.
Whether it was Amber, who had been fretful the entire way, or Rebecca, who had been earnestly listening to her ancestor's explanations, or Ser Byron, who had been maintaining a state of full vigilance, all of them widened their eyes involuntarily upon seeing this ancient ruin hidden within the mountainside.
They stared in stunned silence at this extraordinary remnant of an earlier age.
Wayne's gaze wandered around the site, then abruptly came to rest beside a pile of collapsed rubble.
He walked over to it. Jutting from the heap was a blackened object that had all but lost any recognizable shape. After studying it carefully for some time, he made out that it was a broken sword, heavily corroded and decayed.
Beside the rubble, carved into the ground, was a line of characters. The cuts were so deep that seven hundred years of weathering had not managed to erase them. 16th Company, Cole rests here.
Rebecca's voice came from behind him. "What is... that?"
"When the column was crossing the Clearwater River, it was set upon by pursuers. The 16th Company held the rear. None of them survived," Wayne said quietly. "The last surviving soldier must have fallen back to this place when there was no hope left of breaking through. Unfortunately... the Dark Tide was raging at the time, and the entire Black Mountains were blanketed in corrupting energy. We never reclaimed this region in my lifetime, and by the time the tide naturally receded, no one remembered this place existed anymore..."
Ser Byron unclipped his sword from his belt, held the blade against his chest, and bowed in respect toward the humble grave.
The soldier buried here at least had a grave marker. The warrior who had built the cairn and carved those words left behind no trace of himself at all.
Wayne stood in silence before the grave for a moment, then picked up a fragment of stone from nearby and set it on top of the pile. "Rest easy. Everyone else made it out."
In that moment, he hoped those words had come from Wayne Seawright, not from the traveler who now wore his face.
Then he turned and walked toward the archway not far ahead. "Follow me. Let me show you what your ancestors left behind in this place."