"Serik," he asks, peering about, "is there a reason for the magical mirror? And the ... castle? Did you make a friend with a castle?"
The castle has no reply.
It's pretty big, although not as big as Serik's. He has landed on an upper rampart, and half a step forward will give him a lovely view of a hilly city sprawling haphazardly between and around a pair of converging rivers, with the castle apparently stationed atop the tallest hill, and a line of glittering golden spires ringing the central area around it.
It's ... pretty? He supposes? Not pretty enough to outweigh the confusion. This is not an architectural style he knows.
Are there people anywhere?
He peers at the people in the streets for a few minutes, first, because he is somewhere very foreign and it's a good opportunity to pick up broad social conventions he might have missed.
But then, yes, he goes inside.
"...sorry, I don't speak that language."
"I'm very lost," he explains, helpfully.
He is entirely willing to follow the person! Maybe they know where someone who can translate is. Probably at least they know where someone is whose job it is to deal with lost people, and who will therefore probably be less annoyed about having to do so.
Eh. Howling Mountain worked out pretty well for him.
His sister's going to worry, though. "Sivari?" he murmurs, in an undertone.
Hi, love; what's up?
"I may have been accidentally transported somewhere unfamiliar by some kind of animated mirror."
Is this some kind of metaphor?
Is this Serik's fault?
"How should I know? He's not answering his name, I don't think he can hear me."
...how far are you?
"I don't know that either! I don't recognize the language, or the architectural style."
And are you planning to do anything stupid?
"No!! I found someone who seems to have somewhere in mind to take me, I'm hoping they know a translator."
I'm going to go to the Mountain. If you don't check in, I will be worried.