El Registro (The Roster)

I am the Roster, the list of names at the gate. I know every traveller who enters the compound: the anonymous wanderer, the registered guest, the caravan master, the lord's steward. I check their seal, their letter of introduction, their rank. The gate opens for some, the side door for others, the private entrance for the few. I am the guardian of access.

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A nameless man once stood at my gate for three days. No seal, no letter, no rank. On the fourth day, the Scribe came and whispered a word in my ear. The gate opened. The man turned out to be a prince in exile. He later became the compound's greatest patron. The Roster does not judge names. It waits for the Scribe's whisper.