Prince Kurthnaga of Goldoa describes life in the castle during Path of Radiance, before he meets Ike and crew.

Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The old clock in the hallway went on the way it always had. It had been there since before I could remember, probably before I was born, really. It was wound and dusted every Tuesday, but the rest of the week it sat undisturbed, tick, tick, ticking the hours, the weeks, the years away. Oftentimes it was the only noise in the whole castle.
Things never used to be that way.
There was a window next to the clock, looking out over the garden. My sister had broken that window once. It was on the third floor, but somehow she'd still kicked a ball through it from the outside. She was always so much stronger than she looked. The window – repaired now – was still here, and so was the ball, but my sister was long gone. Sometimes, I'd lie awake at night trying to remember what her voice even sounded like. It had been so long now....
She wasn't the only one missing. Every morning when I had my tea, I'd reach into the mug cupboard and bump against my brother's cup. It had a chip in it from when he'd given a rousing toast and I'd over-enthusiastically knocked mine against it. He'd just laughed and said what a stout fellow I'd turn out to be. I missed that laugh.
The other thing I always saw while I drank my tea was the corner of the tablecloth, where I'd sneezed and burnt a hole in it. My brother's childhood sweetheart was babysitting me, and she fixed it by embroidering little flowers over the burn. She was such a kind soul – probably would've adopted me if she wasn't a kid herself. Before I'd almost wished she would stop mother-henning me all the time, but now I longed for that gentle touch, that patient ear, that beautiful smile that lit up her face every time she saw my brother....

“Do you ever feel... empty?” I asked one morning as I was looking at the tablecloth.
“Do you mean hungry?” said Gareth.
“No, just... empty,” I said. “Like there ought to be more sound, more movement... more people here?”
“There ought to,” said Gareth.
“And have you ever noticed how nothing really happens anymore?” I asked. “And I feel so... lonely.”
Gareth sighed and shrugged. “Not much we can do, I'm afraid.”

I'd walk the halls surrounded by the shadows of everyone who used to live here. Here was my mother's second-best harmonica on a shelf. I couldn't remember her – she had died when I was a baby – but I'd heard from my siblings that she was kind, beautiful, and the greatest musician this side of the desert. I wondered what hearing her songs would've been like.
There was the old notebook that kept record of how much gambling money Gareth owed. He never placed bets anymore; there was nobody to do it with. The usual suspect had been gone for years now. We didn't know when – or even if – he would ever come back.
Out in the garden there was a willow tree, its long, slender branches swaying in the breeze and trailing on the ground. I remembered watching my uncle planting the seed for that tree, when I was very small. He'd even let me help water it – at least, he'd let me grab the handle on the watering can, but looking back I probably didn't do much lifting. My uncle had been gone almost as long as my mother – just packed up and left one day. I never knew why, but I'd always wondered where he'd gone, what he was doing now, whether he'd ever come back to check on his tree, or to visit us. I missed his big, sad eyes and his soft voice. He'd told such good stories, but I was so small then, I could barely remember them now. Once, I'd asked my father if we could ever expect a visit from him, but my father had given a deep sigh and told me not to mention his brother again. Nobody ever told me why they didn't get along anymore. I think my sister knew, but she kept it to herself. Now it was too late to ask her.
Here was the big pond where I'd eavesdropped on my brother when he'd proposed to his sweetheart. They had me with them, but I'd dozed off in my brother's lap and they thought I wasn't listening. They were so excited that night – far too young to really marry, but swearing they would when they could. They'd only just been wed when my brother left... hardly had any time to enjoy their new life, before it changed again. Now they were both gone; nobody knew when we'd see them again.
Sometimes everything was so quiet, so still, so... so dead... that I wanted to scream. But that would never do; my father was not to be disturbed. Who knew what he did all day in his office, but it didn't seem uplifting. He would come to dinner looking sad and tired, and he never talked much. That was a shame – all I wanted was a friend. If it weren't for Gareth, I think I might've lost my marbles in this place, with nothing to do and no one to share my secrets with. If I had any, that is.
It was during these horribly lonely times that I saw the shipwreck on the beach....