The castle was the sort of thing you did not believe until you saw it.

Built into the side of a mountain, as a great deal of Faustben seemed to be, the area before one approached the gates was heavily wooded. Pines and other hardy trees clung to the mountain dirt mercilessly, where grass would sometimes struggle to find purchase. There were patches of it here and there, well-cultivated, but the trees were the thing. The stone rode, like the walls of similar make, seemed to wind serpentine around the crags and sharp relief of the mountain's face. Even with trees all around them Skandra could see the flags flying high, blue and white and stolid, from each of the bastions built into the castle's wall. The thing must have been forty feet or more in height - more than enough to tower over opposing forces - but the main thing were the glimpses of snowy white and solid blue cloaks that one could catch glimpses of through the crenelated parapet. There must have been five dozen of them up there, where the towers exceeded the walls in height by a good twenty feet, but only those flashing glimpses alerted anyone that guards patrolled the heights. Skandra thought the old stone looked worn, but it was only the coloration.

( The castle itself looked like a beast. )