"Est Sularus Oth Mithas."
My name is Geist Wolfengrad, second son of Sir Ulrik Wolfengrad. My fathers years in service to the crown were twenty and five all told. It was like a passion for him, doing his duty. It wasn't too long after he was knighted that he decided to buy a plot of land in Nightlund, in a small city called Nachtheim near the south eastern border. Between campaigns on alloted morale furloughs, my father became acquainted with the woman who would be my mother, Lady Sarah. It wasn't long before they exchanged vows and sired my brother, Fenris. Three years later I was born, and three years after me my brother, William. Ever since birth William has been afflicted with some implacable illness that the healers cannot lay hands on. Until a few years ago, hes spent most of his life under care of my mother, with his few moments of vigour devoted to writing, painting, and things of that nature. His body simply cannot withstand the rigours of our family's long and prestigious military tradition. Ever since I was seven, my father had taken me with him every other time he went on furlough to learn at Throtl. There I was taught scribe work, history, some arts, manners & ettiquette, but mostly strategy and rudimentary swordsmanship. About the time I was thirteen I remember my father taking me down with him to the embattled Throtyl Gap. There he would assign me to the senior infantry leaders, that I might learn the somewhat esoteric principles of leadership. All told I think I learned more from those common soldiers than anything my studies tried to instill. After these assignments, my father would drill me on my knowledge until I fell asleep. When I turned fifteen, I took all of my belongings and moved to Throtl that I might further my training. I never saw Fenris very often at all.. He was always further toward the front line, and eventually on the front line itself. The last time I saw him was at his Knighting. It wasn't long after that a messenger came, his horse near dead, he himself looking haggard and not much better than his mount. I had hardly finished the letter before I mounted a fresh steed and made toward Nachtheim. My mother had been put to the sword by merciless brigands in the night. I will not mention those seldom moments I had to myself when not caring for William. The following years were strange.. One part of me was glad to be home, caring for my brother. The other longed for the din of war. As fate would have it, a messenger approached me once more. This messenger however, was different. There was not one, but many. All Knights of Solamnia. A company at least. They were accompanied by drums, horns casting long and grim notes toward the sky.. At the fore was my father. Behind him, a long wooden casket draped with the heraldy of the family Wolfengrad. As before, I will not describe the moments that followed in any detail. With not only my mother, but also my brother Fenris gone now, my father beseeched the Crown that he might end his service and remain at home to care for my younger brother. The grant was expeditious, having taken into account not only the length of service but the outstanding record of his performance. If I recall correctly,it was either the very same day of the grant or that thereafter, my father approached me with his blade. With that blade came a satchel of coin, a crested shield of heraldry, and a medallion of Nachtheim. Words were not needed, but I knew.. In my heart of hearts. Wolfengrad men belonged on the line. It was and still is our duty. I set off the next morning in solemn silence. I vowed to make my father proud, prayed that my mother and brother smiled down upon me. I haven't seen Nachtheim since. Though we exchange letters now, they seem shorter than they were before. Something about them seems lost and broken, as though in retiring he had also retired his spirit. Now, everyday I train along the borderlands. Everyday I yearn for the moment I will be Knighted.
