The only real defense in the courtyard is an old man, wearing a loose-fitting robe that may once have been dyed a deep crimson, but had faded over the years, more brown than anything, now. He holds a staff with one hand, and a focusing crystal with the other. "You will go no further!" he says, in a voice that doesn't quite carry the commanding presence it might once have. "This are is under Winter's protection, and you are not welcome here!"