Originally dubbed the Gate of the Hated King, both doors had once depicted brazen images of King Ghob and his treacherous legacy. The arch of the doors showed him deceiving the Seelie Court, and further down, his banishment and flight deep underground. How Ghob stole Fire from the dragons was an enduring mystery but the sculptors had done their best, imagining the greedy king duping them with honeyed words. The final carving at the doors’ base had been the true masterpiece; the ravening horde of Ghob’s children, crafted true to life, emerging from the fiery depths to bring terror to the Isle. To stand before the gate and look upon the forms of the goblins, frozen in bronze, reaching for you with bloody malice was an artistic marvel and a fearful reminder.

Now, only half the goblins rushed forth, as the right door had been removed after the Restoration and melted down to create the one which now hung in its place. When last Deglan was here, the new half remained unfinished but now it hung next to its older mate, the carvings jutting out in pugnacious relief. It portrayed the doings of Goban Blackmud; a different king with a far different legacy. Starting with his crowning and his many years of prosperous rule, the carvings descended into the Rebellion and Goban’s fight with the Gaunt Prince and the victory of the Fae. Towards the bottom, the King’s abdication and his departure from the city were chronicled, but the base of the door remained unfinished, the craftsmen waiting for Goban’s return, so that they might place his triumphant image striding out from the pit.

In life, the events had not been quite so grand. At war’s end, Goban Blackmud was a haunted gnome. The death of Aillila Ulvyeh weighed heavily upon him and much of the governance of the city fell to the Burden Bearers. The Gate of the Hated King had remained closed since the day it was constructed, but Goban ordered the doors be thrown wide, removed his crown and handed it to Hob, vowing he would not return until he set things aright. Now two kings roamed the bowels of the Earth, one in disgrace, the other in self-imposed exile. Whether either would ever be seen again remained a question of faith. Two stone pedestals stood near the doors. Atop one lay a goblet full of wine and on the other a great bronze axe. It was the duty of the Kings’ Butlers to suitably greet either of the wayward rulers should they return; Goban with refreshment, Ghob with death.