The Wall of Names

A long dry-stone field wall along the castle footpath where generations of dead shepherds had their names scratched into the coping-stones — the oldest still feel faintly warm under your hand.

Every shepherd who died on the Spur and refused a Vandahl niche went here instead: a name cut into the nearest coping-stone by whoever was left. The practice is old enough that the earliest names are worn to guesswork, but they still hold something — a faint, harmless warmth that more sensitive folk swear they feel when they trail their fingers along the wall. Nobody agrees on why. It is the first marker on the footpath to Castle Sered and the last thing many travellers touch before turning back.