Rakald reminded Aidann a bit of Haern Cadwch, in a strange way, though the construction was totally different. So was the [i]de[/i]struction, actually; where the Bear school's old keep had been abandoned and destroyed by riots before being left to the elements, Rakald Keep was a case study in long decay. The outer walls were somehow still intact, but the door had long been smashed out of its frame. Aidann tutted a bit at the disrepair. That door...the fact that it wasn't too rotted out but was smashed was a touch concerning. It was going to be a [i]nightmare[/i] to control the place, make sure it wasn't a hotbed of monsters. Who knows how many nekkers had burrowed through the walls in that place? And it certainly didn't help that the group was loud. Very, very loud. At this rate, any monsters dwelling in the castle would know not only that they were coming, but how many were coming, and where they were going to stay. The perfect storm for the entire vanguard to be eaten. 

For the barest sliver of a moment, Aidann regretted taking this contract. Yes, it paid well, and yes, there was another witcher to work with, something that he'd rarely had the dubious pleasure of. There was even a sorceress, just in case everything was well and truly going to the dogs. As contracts went, it was nearly perfect. But that nagging voice in the back of his mind kept bugging him: [i]there are so many normal people here that won't ken what to do if and when a monster dive a' em. How're you going to keep 'em safe, Aidann? How many can you save from a divin' forktail, or a vengeful nightwraith bound to this forsaken place? Do you really think you can kill it before it takes at least a few live? Idiot.[/i] He shook it off as best he could, furious at his momentary doubt. With a sorceress and two witchers, the loss of life would be minimal in the event of a monster attack, at least compared to what it would be with only the Temerian vanguard. Still; he hoped that they wouldn't be this loud the whole time. If they were, then life would be much harder than it really needed to be.

At Balidvar's order--redundant as it was--he gave a brief "aye," and then met Morgan's eyes and nodded. Hopping off of Steam, he drew the great silver blade from his back, just to be safe. Giving it a single twirl to loosen up his wrist and and heaving a tight breath, he quietly slid through the rotting doorframe and into the vestibule.

Quiet as the grave, and dark as one too. The only light was from the overcast sun outside as it glowed sullenly through the gap where a door would ordinarily be. He'd seen no windows from outside, only scattered arrow slits, so it was likely to be just as dark in there. Grimacing, he padded silently forward, through the cracked, nigh-crumbling archway before him and into the first great hall of the keep.

If the outside was in disarray, then the inside was even more so. Great wooden tables lay smashed and rotted on the ground, perfuming the area with the stink of decay. The great central fireplace had fallen apart under its own weight and the weight of the soggy years, filled up with chunks of crumbling chimney. In the faint light that seeped through the arrow slits, he could barely see the tapestries festooning the walls, elaborate patterns crumbling into a mess of textile mush below. Stalking through the hall, he pivoted slowly on his heel as he went, absorbing everything around him. He'd forgotten to look behind him far too many times in his long life, and he had the scars to prove it. By the time he reached the ruined fireplace, he was holding his breath, eyes wide and catlike, soaking up his surroundings like a sponge, ears straining for any sound, any at all, that might betray a monster attack.

Nothing. 

The floor was level and intact. The rafters holding the ceiling up were quite well-preserved. Barring a few places here and there, the walls were solid and the stone refused to crumble. All things considered? Far better than he thought it would be. With a controlled relief, he slowly let the breath out. Nothing dangerous here but mangled old trappings of opulence. Taking one last look around, he relaxed slightly, debating whether or not to return to Balidvar and let him know that the first hall was safe. [i]Best not[/i], he decided. There were more halls than this one in the keep. Who knew what could be lurking in them? He would search thoroughly. He didn't make a living through cutting corners.

Dispelling the relaxation, he strode to the darker door on the other end of the room, and plunged further into the depths of the keep.