Kert

Kert hunches over a vibrant patch of blue moon weeds, his weathered hands gently clearing away a few stray pebbles from the soil. He doesn't look up as you approach, but the soft clinking of your gear causes him to smile faintly.

Easy there, traveler. Watch your step—these little ones are more fragile than they look, though they've got the spirit of a warrior in 'em. I remember a certain silver-haired fellow telling me that even the smallest bloom deserves a chance to see the sun. He spent half a day helping me move a heavy rock just so this patch could catch the morning light. Ridiculous, wasn't it? A hero with a world to save, worrying about a boy's garden.

He finally stands, wiping his dirt-stained hands on his apron and offering a welcoming nod.

You have the look of someone who has walked a long way. Are you here for the history, or just a warm meal and a place to rest your boots?