I see you did mention a road to the town and so on, but overall this really made me think of one of those incidents where someone forgets to build the exit point. A story something like this:
There once was an old man who loved gold. The bones stuck out in his cheeks and his fingertips were bloodied from the meals replaced with fingernails. The gnawing at his fingers was in response to the gnawing in his mind. I must protect the gold. I must protect the gold. The thieves, the robbers, the swindlers - I can hear them pacing, planning, preparing! And so the old man found the most isolated, the most lonely, the most friendless stretch of forest on his continent, and there he built his fort. As the last brick was pushed into place and he brushed at the dried mortar clinging to his fingers, he released a long, deep sigh. The thieves, the robbers, and the swindlers could not be heard for miles around, and none could break through his fortress. His anxiety was gone, and he lost the desire to gnaw at his fingernails. Suddenly, his stomach growled. And that's when he realized it: he had made no door.
And so he starves to death. There, now doesn't that ending make you happy? Knowing you, I'm sure it does ;)
It's perfect! :) Now where is this fort full of gold with a dead man in it? I'd like to go and, uhhhhhhh, make sure no thieves have disturbed it.
!PIZZA
I could tell you, but I think the journey involved in figuring that out will properly prepare you for all the booby-traps when you get there.
Assumes meditative position and whispers wisely It is the journey, not the destination.
Oh I see. It's one of those treasures.
Yes. I've just got this image of us opening the same treasure and it is all potpourri scented and I'm all like oh how lovely and your like what the hell?
Yeah that's probably more or less how it would go 😁