The Stronghold had never been so lonely, as the large wooden gates were guarded by at least six gnomes at any one time, and human interaction was kept to a minimum on the King's orders. "And change!" called out a round-faced gnome with bright rosy cheeks. The group of gnomes abandoned their post, and this position was occupied afterwards by another six gnomes, each carrying miniature halberds and sporting a thick metal armour that made them stumble about a bit. "I'm sweating under this," said a thin gnome in reference to his armour. The round-faced guard did not reply. "What I dreamed." "Exactly."