Celtorian Delusion

The guard patrolled the streets, eyes vigilant and alert, looking for any sign of trouble or crime. The buildings, painted the most brilliant white, reflected the afternoon sun, illuminating a bustling marketplace. Hawkers cried their wares, pickpockets ducked underfoot, and the smell of exotic spices permeated the air.

Inhaling deeply, the guard put his spear down to take a rest. It was Mikael's shift anyway, he was just covering for him. He'd climbed one of the buildings to take a break. Tiring, with the winding staircases, but oh-so-worth it for the view past the walls. Sprawling green fields, farmers harvesting the golden wheat all around Celtor City. In the distance, he could even make out the white sails of merchant ships returning to Celtor.

"The life we all strive for", the guard said, though his lungs would not pull the air he needed to form the words. And even if he could, his vocal cords had long since snapped. Standing stiffly on his rooftop perch, spear in hand, locked by the rigor mortis that had long since set in, he gazed out across the drowned land of Celtor City, forever trapped within his own mind. A pleasant fantasy that he now lived in, enshrined and entombed by memories of a time long past.