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Truth, Honor, Kinship

After a harrowing experience with a group of heretics, young Aurelien de Jardineaux had always known that his destiny lay in knighthood. As a young boy growing up in Ishgard, he had been captivated by the stories of brave knights who fought against the enemies of their city-state and protected the people of Ishgard from harm. Though a youth, Aurelien had joined the Order of Our Knights Most Heavenly, determined to do his part in representing House de Jardineaux’s martial roots, and in the pursuit of filling his father’s shoes. It was after the closing of the Final Verse of the thousand-year-Dragonsong-War, he climbed to the rank of captain of a unit that had only just lost its leader at the hands of a draconic adversary. was beloved by his unit, who looked up to him as a mentor and friend.

The Company’s Knight-Lieutenant was an esteemed warrior, his method involved swinging an axe than the graceful beauty of the halberd or sword. Ser Lucien de Archambeaux. Though Ser Lucien was a staunch traditionalist who often disagreed with Ser Aurelien, he couldn't help but respect his captain's unwavering commitment to the well-being of his knights. One particularly gelid morn, the 14th Company was called upon to defend the nearby Central Highlands from an attack by a rogue dragon. Ser Aurelien, who oft chose to suffer the same hardship as his men, led his knights into battle wielding his sword with the same grace and skill as ever.

Easily distinguished in a sea of twinkling maille was Ser Julien, a Knight Dragoon who had lent his aid to the fervent unit for many years. Ser Julien was an irreplaceable dragoon of the See, known for his fierceness in battle and his unwavering loyalty to Ishgard. Despite his gruff exterior, Ser Julien had a deep respect for Ser Aurelien, who had always treated him with an unexpected sense of empathy.

The dragon swerved wildly in the air, war machina flinging magickal ammunition toward it in an attempt to slow the beast down. Archers, halberdiers, and chocobo cavalry made up the 14th unit, Surprising to none but to himself, Ser Julien tore through the heavens and struck true his holy weapon into the dragon. His mastery of the lance was unparalleled, and his courage in the face of danger inspired his fellow knights to fight harder than ever before. With Ser Aurelien at the helm and Ser Julien on the front lines, the 14th Company emerged victorious, successfully arresting the advance of the dragon menace.

It was this momentous event that earned the then squire, Emeraude de Cadieux, her knighthood. She is the sole knight to hail from her noble house who earned substantial prestige after the imminent end of her squireship under Ser Aurelien. Though her wounds her great, she had persevered and proven to not only the stubborn Knight-Lieutenant but her immediate family that she belonged within the Order under the Fury and that her place was with her brothers and sisters ever-vigilant—bannered under peace or not. A people’s conditioning would never be so easily forgotten.

In the aftermath of the battle, Ser Aurelien gathered his knights—greenhorn squires in tow— and spoke to them with his characteristic altruisme. He praised their bravery and skill, but also reminded them that they were more than just soldiers - they were comrades-in-arms, bound together by a common purpose and a shared sense of duty.

“Brave is the man who displays valor, wise is the man who acknowledges the strength of his compeers. Our verity reinforces the solidarity within our small number. May hope, strength, and faith in Her divine judgment ever guide us. It is my belief that She smiles upon us from the snow-laden skies above. Naught shall divide us—come what may!” 

As the 14th Company Temple Knights returned to their respective hearths within the barracks that eve, they returned with renewed fervor and a sense of pride swelling within their armor. They were part of a brotherhood of knights who stood together against any foe, led by a captain who was as kind as he was fierce, and whose heart was as stalwart as his stance. Even the hard-headed Knight-Lieutenant, Ser Lucien let the smallest curl form on his mien, as if in acknowledgment of Ser Aurelien’s influence on the unit. He was not smiling, however, no—it was a mere trick of the light.

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In Duty, Purpose

  The snowy fields of the Coerthan Highlands were stained with the essence of fallen compeers: Ishgard was on the verge of societal collapse at the hands of its draconic foes from Dravania… those who yet smote at the gates of Ishgard would deal a devastating blow to Foundation, the Brume in tow. Many memorialized statues of Knights of Renown would lay crumbling, defaced by wyrms and their tremendous aerial assault. The rays beyond clouds overcast pierced through the dark, letting through slivers of its holy light on the desecrated battlefield below. Lord Faustin’s retinue lie haplessly on the ground outflanked by the winged cur who would see the lives of men extinguished—The Lord of House de Jardineaux’s magnificent armor gleamed in what little light it could purchase, his warworn frame held taut the grand bow his shot from singing a song of swift precision as it met with Lord Faustin’s now lifeless remains.

Within the trenches dug comrades-in-arms huddled together to shelter themselves from the bloodbath. Bridge seventeen was one of many that bridged the moat that separated the surrounding land of Drachenmoor keep. There was something unforgiving about the innate precision and mental acuity Ishgardian military had over the dragonkith: the arrows flying towards the Ishgardian push were meticulously set ablaze by Ishgardian Thaumaturges with calculated efficacy. Bolts were bent by towershields, raising bulwarks seemingly out of nowhere. While their brethren, warriors of the green unseen by the primitive stock of the draconic army, saw to it that none who dare peek over the parapet escape their lethal poisoned daggers.

The terrifying might of the lance-bearing dragoons ripped and dismembered the comparably larger bodies with ease, like a fisherman in gentle season pulling off limbs of a dead crayfish for sale.Among the soldiers of the onslaught was Aurelien, resplendent in his military-issued Temple Knight armor. His pauldrons bore the symbol of the Order and his halberd an heirloom from long past. In a clash and clang of swords, teeth, nail and claw he sought fights that seemed nearly impossible to win. The elfin Temple Knight swung in windstance. Fast sweeping strike like the aquiline swoop of a predator, both graceful and terrifying. He felled many a heretic around his form, forming a ring of death as the bodies piled around him. You would always find him in the heart of the action, for he –unlike his brother Alois—wasn’t for chairs and lavish celebratory banquets—mere ceremonious in nature, masking the ugly face of wartorn lands.

Rumor had spread through the ranks of the Order of a certain young knight of House Jardineaux precariously pushing forward with unprecedented aggression yet conspicuously avoiding certain death. Members of his company and beyond had vouched for their compeer: arrows seemed to nearly miss him, his form was ever adaptive to the fight before him. The youth of only eighteen winters, he set his gaze heavensward, to the dragoons that flew past the skies. The thrill of battle numbed the thunder of his beating heart, blood singing as the heat rose from his gauntleted feet to the very tips of his arrow pointed ears. His piercingly cerulean hues danced from man to man as he cried out swinging his sword in a crescent sweep with such force that it maimed a few while slashing through the bodies of who dared to approached his blindside….

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The deadliest trio in all of Wallachia 🌙

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Sword Illustrations by Ma-Ko (2018-21)

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