There is a knight by the gate to the shining district. His armour shines, his blade is bright, his eyes are blue and his hair is fair. He is what a knight should be, to the eye. He holds his post in silence, unmoving.
Seriously, you can murder someone in front of him and he won’t twitch a muscle for them. Only reacts if you try to pass through the gates and are ‘unworthy’ (read, can’t bribe the sick fuck).
There is a knight by the gate to the crumbling district. His armour is rusted, his blade dulled, his eyes are blinded and his hair long gone. He is what a knight should not become. He holds his post in silence, unmoving.
Honestly, we’re all pretty sure he’s dead and is animated only by magic when someone tries to pass through the gate. He doesn’t need bribes, just pay your tithe.
There are no knights by the gates to The City.
If you are bold enough to pass through the mythical forest, and clever enough to survive the trip the gates will stand open for you.
If you are stupid enough to venture out into it unprepared, well far be it for any to stop you.
But you’ll notice, if you wander that way often (and so very few do), that the crumbling gatehouse is often lit warm by fire. Should you venture there you would find old men at their ease, simple blades kept keen, and armour long discarded for soft leathers and laughter.