Kern’s gate
The old man sits on a rock near the Telara River. He massages his joints tired from an eternity spent roaming around the earth. He had forgotten for how long he had been doing this. Decades? Centuries? There was probably no one as old as him in these lands, of that he was certain. The time had finally came for him to return to the Temple and to give his place to one of the old souls waiting to be reborn.
He puts his hand on the rock on which he rests. Here every tree, every stone, and even the smell of the wind remind him the ancient legends of Kern’s gate.
“Many times has the city of Kern died and many times it has reborn… One foot in the world of the dead, one in the world of the livings. That’s what people believe it was for centuries, until the curse of these lands, an ever opened wound embodied in the tragic destiny of a poor child, finally came into the light of those who could see its nature, and by this knowledge, heal it.”
The words resonate in his mind, among the fragments his failing memory has not yet silenced. He also remembers the name of one of the druids who sealed the curse. Noha'ni, the eagle tamer. Whose mysterious tattoo over the right eye was a doorway to the spirit world. Why did this one remain in his memory and not the others? One more absurd mystery weighing on his old bones.
Then the sun rose on the heights of Kern's gate. The high walls and threatening towers of the fortress overlook a valley with some fields, pastures, quarries and boats. Bordered by breathtaking mountains, the valley offers to the East a plunging view of the capital of Nascombe, a flourishing commercial city of which Kern’s gate was made the military wing. The barony is strategically located on the border between the worlds of desert, steppes and tropical climates. A place of conflicts and opportunities.
The traveler sets out again, reinvigorated by this landscape and the clamour of a city that gradually awakes. Suddenly echoes the sound of a horn carried by the wind, and the portal of Kern’s gate opens. Heavily armed horsemen, returning from a night patrol promptly penetrate the walls.
The old man slowly follows them in the city, with a hint of apprehension. For the darkest legends often hide an even darker past... But what he discovers behind these walls is a hectic atmosphere full of travelers, craftsmen and tamers of creatures of all sizes. In these narrow and warm streets, architectural styles blend harmoniously with each other, echoing the diversity of the tribes who took refuge here generations ago.
The old man feels his limits approaching. Yet he is strangely moved by this life. By these smiles. He feels that he once gave a lot of himself to this place, and he now sees with his own eyes that it was not in vain.
He continues his ascent, crossing training grounds where priests and soldiers work together. Then he arrives in the gardens of the temple, on top of the city. It consists of a set of wooden buildings on stilts, in a traditional To'Resk style. Far from a place of dogmatic beliefs, it is a school of thoughts whose methods have spread throughout the kingdom of Arkadia. Occupied by researchers and administrators in search of efficiency and knowledge, Kern’s gate has always been a city both wild and philosophical. Fierce in spirit and body. Its people love conflict that helps them to push their limits; but they also love order, peace, which guarantee the memory of things and the happiness of beings.
The old man finally stops in the central courtyard, in front of the huge block of stone around which the temple was built. For an instant he contemplates the stone in silence.
Then he kneels in a whisper: “I am back.”
A few hours later an old man with closed eyes was found sitting peacefully before the stele of Telara, the cursed child, and the eight guardians of Kern’s gate. The old man carried the traces of countless journeys that had taken him to the four corners of the world. A worn leather glove was attached to his belt, and a strange circular tattoo surrounded his right eye, gleaming with an aura that was slowly fading away. The old man had died without even remembering his name.
Original story of Kern's Gate
