As you come upon the gates of Lauronhelm, the stony walls feel ever bigger. They are the guard to the town, doing what the knights cannot. Upon the slow creaky opening of the gates you're greeted with bustling. The people of the town going about their business as usual; a traveller such as yourself does not pose an abnormality, not in this market town. You head into the town, making your way past the stalls in the market square, past the houses of wood and stone, of which there are many. Following those twists and turns of the cobbled pathway before you, you pass a busy tavern, an inn, stables. You come across steps. Many ascending stone steps that lead to the castle manor atop the hill, the living place of the king of Lauronhelm. When you look up you see one large tower, jutting upwards into the cloudy sky, connected to another smaller tower by thick stone walls; that part is the manor. The whole structure is made with beautiful precision, effort, and well-laid stone. The steps, made of the same smooth stone, cascade down the hill which the castle stands upon. You think to yourself "how did I not notice this structure until I was upon it?" In the distance you hear the bustling of the market, the comers, goers, sellers, and buyers. You realise that this town is not made by it's castle, its walls, nor its buildings of wood and stone; its made by its people.