Old Bastion, once a world symbolizing power and justice, lay in the age as a ruined husk of its former glory. Within the old city, nestled within a small valley at the foot of sheer cliff, the streets held out in a hush, where life once teeming had been shepherded away. Stray howls of wind cutting down from the highlands gave the emptiness, otherwise a peaceful tome to isolation, a haunted air in the early twilight hours approaching dawn. What damage had convened upon the structures has been ushered to by the steady hand of time as people abandoned the place some count of decades prior. 

The inhabitants that remained there lived within and around an ancient castle, perched upon a cliff overlooking the city. A Goliath of a structure, the castles shadow was enough to shade the entire city beneath it as the sun's path allowed. It's strong stone and iron construction, even it's disrepair, domineered over the city and the surrounding landscapes, leaving now question as to why the mighty society of Keybearers had once chosen it as their home. It had no shortage of battlements when it was at its peak: four towers were placed at the corners of the squared walls of the main keep, marking the intermediate directions, each equipped with a set of weapons that could have made any invasion tremble. At the precise middle stood the "central tower" spanning up higher than the other four and support gratuitously by buttresses. From any of the towers, one could see clear across the world, so it was said. 

And even if the inhabitants didn't realize it yet, the coming tide would make the towers a great asset.

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Upon a balcony of the castle's center tower, resided a man of some age. He sat cross-legged, back upright an neck at a full yet relaxed extension. His arms hung at his side, bent at the elbows, and fingers bent in the "okay" sign. His eyelids held shut, not too tightly but far from loosely, and without even the slightest sliver of a peek. In this meditative pose he exemplified the state of total, true relaxation. The body as it sat was without tension, yet featured a decisive control as it remained perfectly still; signified by the recently weathered look upon the man's face, be had been there meditating for hours, feeling the high breezes over the tower whip across his face even since night had fallen, the red of his cheeks sticking out even on his tanned skin.

For all of this, one might have expected the man to be unaware of his surroundings. But that assumption couldn't have been further off from the truth. He was well aware of the chilly air breezing about him; he had been throughout the night, which he had spent in that exact spot in that exact position. And that hadn't been all that he was aware of. His mind, focused and unhindered as it was, opened to the entirety of his surroundings. From the distant screeching of night birds making their circles about the castle grounds to the distant echoing of the ridges on the horizon, he was nearly perfectly in tuned.

This was by name Yuan Lao, a Master of the fabled Keyblade as per his title; the last of Keybearing Masters to reside there since they dispersed fifty years ago. A man of age, he had been through quite the sum of troubles in his lifetime, as to be disciplined to hold meditation for hours on end as he had been for the last eight hours. Despite that he had been awake through the sleeping hours, he was far from tired or sluggish; he maintained his posture and control even as the first of the morning light broke from over the horizon. As the light crept across the landscape at a quick pace with the rising sun it fell upon his face, dampening the wind's chill. Only then did the Master's come open, squinting as they stared in the direction of the sun. 

With a soft utterance, "rise and shine," he rose to his feet, shook off the dust that been delivered onto his robes overnight and proceeded to the interior of the central tower. It was a long trek for being indoors, but one he had made for several decades whilst he called Old Bastion his home. The path took him through he Watch Room at the top of the tower and down a narrow spiral staircase through a succession of circular rooms, each equipped with old battlements, as small cannons pointed out the windows, from the castle's glory days, which he had tirelessly pursued the refurbishment of to little avail. [i]Soon enough,[/i] he thought, stopping for a second in one of the rooms, staring wishfully at the weapons. [i]As soon as an adequate engineer happens upon this place.[/i]; as deplorable and ungraceful as he found them, the cannons had ways been good at putting down sieges. 

Moments passed, Lao simply staring in reminiscence of the old days, when the castle was a true safeguard. Then, as of being pulled from a trance at the beckoning of a rooster's call, he shook his head, turned towards the stairs and continued on his way down. At the bottom he entered into a corridor that stretched the front length of the castle's main keep, branching off into other corridors towards the sides and the keep's front and back ends. Orienting himself to his left, he flicked his hand, summoning the shimmering, shoulder-height staff that was his Keyblade. Cracking a slight grin, he proceeded forward. 

Along that particular corridor, resided the rooms in which Lao's apprentices slept by night (when the actually got sleep). As the old Master passed by each one, he knocked the bottom end his Keyblade forcefully against the hardwood doors. "Arise! Arise! A new dawn is upon us!" He called for each set of knocks. "Breakfast is in FIVE minutes and you won't want to miss out on it." Sparing no time to ensure that his students heeded his words (as they had, over the course of time, become accustomed to his methods enough to follow them) he continued down the hall, turning the sharp right corner towards the back end of the keep. 

Down another flight of stairs and along another corridor, he came to the Grand Hall, overlooking a sheer cliff drop into a valley below the castle. The hall had already been set by the few maids that remained on duty in the world's state: several long tables set parallel to each other, along which dozens of the castle'a refugee and traveler populations sat already scarfing down the day's first meal. As he made his way across the hall towards a set of empty seats in the far corner he stepped into the usual barrage of greetings to which he only had time to nod politely to keep up. 

One greeting, however, couldn't be dismissed so easily: that of a younger man, adorned in armor and bearing a pair of short swords at his waist, approached with a clipboard and pen in hand. "Master Lao," the man said, bowing hastily as an afterthought. "Word from the night watch."

"Go on, Victor," Lao responded, ushering him along as he continued towards his seat. 

"Just some new arrivals," Victor reported. "A band of merchants arrived around midnight looking for housing, we put them up in the south wing, a bit cramped, but they seems thankful enough just to get some beds to sleep in." 

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Lao remarked, narrowing his eyes at the watchman. "Anything else?"

"Well..." The watchman hesitated for a second, drawing out the vowel as he searched for his next words. "A group of old priests, so they claim to be, arrived about an hour ago telling me they had to speak with you about something. They wouldn't tell me what, but they said it was a matter of utmost urgency."

"And did you bring them down here with you this morning?" Lao growled. 

"No sir." Victor shook his head in disappointment. "They insisted on taking breakfast in their room, it's down the hall from the central tower."

"You should have come straight for me when they arrived!" Loa retorted, almost cutting Victor off as he whipped his seat out. "I may be able tune to the world around me in my meditations, but I can't read minds." He lowered into the chair, slapping his hands on the table in he process. "Things of importance must always be tended to without delay, remember that next time Victor."

"Yes Master Lao." Victor bowed again, and hurried off. 

Lao watched the man scurry off to help a family find seating together before turning his thoughts to what matters the priests wished to discuss.