Brevant

What is it like to be part of the Hand of Sol? I can think of no greater honor.

That is not to diminish our tireless farmers and enlightening scholars, our ingenious builders and inspiring musicians. We are all precious in the regard of Sol, all toiling faithfully for the radiant future of Solana.

We all find our place, don’t we? We serve in the manner that excites our minds and fills our hearts. We find our purpose.

See this hammer? It is my pitchfork and quill, trowel and instrument. This is my tool and my trade, my pride and my joy.

I still remember the first time I swung it in battle. I was but a squire, some years before Thebasto placed the laurel of a knight upon my brow. We were protecting our settlers in the foothills of the Charred Range, those smoldering mountains that separate us from Volcor. They came at us through the sulfurous vapors, highland raiders painted red like hot coals, intent on slaughtering the villagers, stealing their children into slavery.

Was I afraid? Of course I was. I am not some statue of stone and ire. Like you, I am a person of tender flesh and feeling. I trembled, mouth dry as those Volcoran hills. Why, if not for my training, I’d have soiled my armor. Worst yet, I’d have died with a burning spear through my bowels.

Training, young ladies and gentlemen. That was my saving grace. Our lieutenant shouted her orders in a voice of such confidence, such command, that my training simply took over. I hurried to my position behind the shield wall, ready to strike down any foe that slipped through our stalwart ranks.

One of my brave comrades took a scimitar to the leg, and through the fleeting gap charged a roaring raider of fury and fire. Eight feet tall he was, swathed in the coal-black furs of some gigantic predator. He raised an almighty club above his red-maned head, the weapon ablaze with flame. Whether he meant to crush me or burn me alive, I know not to this day. ‘Twas my training that kept me from either.

Grueling drills forged my once-tender arms into cords of steel. Spars and duels honed my feet to be swift and sure. Faster than thought, I stepped up to that man-mountain and knocked him flat with this very hammer.

We won the day, our instruction, our discipline, overcoming the ragged ferocity of those barbaric invaders. Yes, some of us perished in the line of duty, but that is the sacrifice we make, the price we pay for peace. We, the Hand of Sol, risk our lives so the people of Solana may sleep soundly in their beds.

Who among you, young ladies and gentleman, thinks they have what it takes? Who is ready to train? Who is ready to fight? I, Brevant, was once like you. Full of youth and hope, bursting with an untested lust for adventure. Now I am a knight, a protector, and by Sol it was the Hand that made me the man I am today.

Join us! Train hard, and who knows? One day it’ll be you out there, defending the innocent, protecting what is right. In service, may you find purpose. In service, may you find glory!