Grindvakt is a broad-shouldered village gate guard with weathered hands, a mud-stained hem, and the kind of face that looks carved by years of rain rather than time. His green-brown clothes are practical to the point of near-vanishing against the reeds, yet he wears them with an odd fastidiousness, as if each fold has a place in some private ceremony. His round shield bears a crooked hook symbol painted over an older emblem that has been scratched out and repainted so many times the layers have a rough, peeled texture. He moves with a careful, side-to-side patrol walk like a heron on ice, but his boots are polished brighter than any farmer's son's, an unexpected touch of vanity on an otherwise plain man. When he smiles, it comes late and slightly crooked, like he is surprised to find himself doing it.