[h3]Forest, near ancient Yharnam, ancient Pthumeru[/h3]
While Ophelia and Farren took in the breathtaking sight of ancient Pthumeru Yharnam, Torquil and Gerlinde shared a moment of relative lack of appreciation for the view. For Torquil, this change meant next to nothing because even though what little he knew of his old life suggested that he had lived in this forest his entire life, he remembered next to nothing of it, and what little he did remember brought him nothing but agony. Part of him actually figured it was good riddance to remove himself further from what had brought him such pain, and separation through time was possibly even better than separation across distance. This new old city looked fancy, but besides that it meant nothing to him. It was a big city – though he did not fully comprehend [I]how[/I] big, having no recognition as to whether it was bigger or smaller than modern Yharnam – and that was about the extent of his thoughts.
Gerlinde had significantly greater insight into what they were looking at, understood what it was and how it differed from modern Yharnam. She understood... but did not particularly care. She was much too distracted to feel much of anything at the sight of ancient Yharnam, and anyone looking her way might be struck by the fact that she – the woman who had been laughing as the fluids in her eyes boiled, who had always seemed fearless and relentless – now seemed... worried. The smile that had never left her face had faded to a faint compulsive curve at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes that had always been wide and eager were now alert and almost fearful. Her thoughts kept returning to how she had knelt to summon the Messengers, only for their absence to send shockwaves through her that threatened to shatter the spirit of steel she had cultivated for herself. Because if the little ones of the Dream did not come, what did that mean? Was the entirety of this city blanketed by the same kind of protection that held them off in the Cathedral Ward? Or... was it that this time did not have little ones of the Dream? Because it had no Dream? And if there was no Dream...
Would they reawaken if they died?

Even so the four Hunters descended from the hill, delving beneath the canopy again as they headed for the nearby city gate. After walking about a hundred meters the forest came to an abrupt stop, and they suddenly found themselves walking on flat, open ground as they approached the gate. As they got closer, they would get a better look at the guards they had seen from afar.
On the ground, standing on either side of the open gateway, were two figures in scarlet cloaks and silver-plated armor. Getting closer, the perspective on them became clearer and they would realize that both men were very tall, with slender builds and long limbs. They were both men with the characteristics they had already come to associate with Pthumerians from the Old Labyrinth: black eyes and pale skin... but unlike the ones from the Old Labyrinth, these Pthumerians were young and almost unspeakably beautiful. Each of these two random men, assigned to the illustrious duty of standing next to an open gate, was easily as handsome as Dietrich.
They were also both armed; the one on the left side of the gate was leaning on a lethal-looking glaive, whereas the other carried a falchion in his right hand and some manner of pistol in his left... and a mace on his right hip? Though with all of them being familiar with the concept of trick weapons, and realizing that this practice had its origin in ancient Pthumeru, they would surely notice the similarities in design between their weaponry. It would not be difficult to conclude that the falchion could combine with the mace and become a glaive.

Much more subtle from afar, but more obvious as they got closer and it became silhouetted against the moon- and starlit sky, they might also notice a figure sitting cross-legged on top of the gatehouse. The conditions made it challenging to pick out details about this figure, but they would be able to see a shadow lying in the figure's lap that looked a lot like an unusually long rifle.

“[I]What is this?[/I]” the voice translated as the guard on the left spoke in Pthumerian. He seemed puzzled by their approach, but did not brandish his weapon. “[I]Foreigners? In the Godswood? How did they get there?[/I]” Though the words were alien to them, his tone was outraged.
“[I]They smell like Hunters,[/I]” the other remarked, sounding much less interested. His black gaze swept over them, lingering on Farren. “[I]One of them is even an experiment. Must be from one of the other cities.[/I]”
“[I]Whatever.[/I]” The first guard sighed, then straightened his head and raised his voice to address them: “[I]Strangers! Do you speak Pthumerian? If not, just say something so we know which kind of translator we need.[/I]”