Brother Jacob

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  Name: Viscount Letholdus Chelmsford of Cassomir; His divine Holiness Brother Jacob, Beacon of the Inheritor
  Gender: Male
  Race: Human
  Occupation: Order Grandmaster of the Taldan Whiteshields
  Alignment: Lawful Good
  Deity: Iomedae
  Age: 57
  Height: 5'11
  Weight: 165
  Hair: Gray
  Eyes: Blue
  Handedness: Right
  Relationship Status: Single
  Personality: Serious, perfectionistic, demanding, pure, righteous, conservative, authoritative, obsessive, dull, dedicated, devoted, persistent, caring, vengeful, virtuous
  
  Early life
  
  Letholdus Chelmsford of Cassomir was never meant to be an ordinary man. The firstborn son, he was the pride and joy of Viscount Chelmsford and his beautiful wife. His parents took great pride in their child and held a feast that lasted a fortnight to celebrate his birth. They could well afford it, for their family was prosperous; descended from a line of legendary warriors, mages and crusaders against evil. But besides their courage, faith and righteousness, crusaders have often been known for their enterprising spirit, and with blessings of the Gods through nothing but honest means, no doubt, the family had amassed quite a wealth. Their lavish estate spanned as far as the eye could see, and life there was never dull. Feast after feast, banquet after banquet, there seemed to be no end to the pleasures it could offer. At the head of it was the Lady Evelyn Chelmsford, renowned for her beauty and angelic grace as much as for her aversion to a life of marital faithfulness and virtue. She was slender but voluptuous, with luxurious golden locks that she had her maids wrap in all manners of luxurious ways, eyes as blue as the summer sky, luscious lips as if carved out of ripe cherries, and a body like an hourglass. Her husband was a boring old lout. Could she really be to blame? She was married young to a much older man, a man far too preoccupied with his Viscountly troubles, hunts, and books, management of the family's wealth, and Shelyn knows what else, and if we are perfectly honest, one could not say that she minded. After all, there were plenty of men around the estate that were far more attractive, there were plenty of pretty girls also, and much fun to be had with food, drink, song and love, esepecially when her husband was far from the eye and far from the heart.
  
  In the years to follow, Evelyn gave birth to three more children, one boy and two girls. Their fatherhood was never known, but it was also never really questioned, except for their second born son, Walter. All other three children were dark haired and dark eyed, like their supposed father; while Walter was much like his mother, an angel on earth. His hair was of shimmering gold and his eyes blue like the deepest sea, and it was known, but never said, that one of Evelyn's favorite lovers was a handsome young knight of strikingly similar features at the time. Letholdus and Walter could never get along, like brothers, or in this case probably half-brothers, commonly can't. Walter was, in spite of being a year and a half Letholdus's junior, always the better one. He was quicker of wit, more outspoken, beautiful, beloved by everyone. As the boys grew, he also outgrew his older brother, and he would become better at every sport and every other activity they engaged in. That was unsurprising, because Walter struggled with his enitre being to be better than his brother; it was so very unfair that only because Letholdus was born first, he would inherit everything. Most quickly began to empathize with the second born, who was immensely more popular. He would always be the heart of every feast held by his mother, entertaining the guests, full of jokes and dedicated to pleasure. While he would rejoice and feast with the rest, Letholdus locked himself away. All of his surroundings disgusted him. The gluttony and excess that wealth brings, idle amusement that leads into sin, his stomach turned every time he saw his mother in the arms of another man, and even more at the time he had to hear her screams of bliss though a wall. The more years passed, the fewer people even realized he was there, so much he withdrew from the public life at the estate and locked himself away in his suite.
  
  Religious revelations
  
  A time came when the old Viscount Chelmsford fell very ill. Even though several physicians, mages and clerics were called to his bedside, no one could find a way to help him. When the Viscount realized his days were nearly numbered, he called his sons to him, to say his will to them. Letholdus came with sadness in his eyes, while Walter had hope in his. They spoke for a while of old times, and then the father told his sons the expected; the older was to rule the estate ad carry on the title, and it was urgent to find him a wife; while the younger was to enter priesthood. Walter broke down at his father's feet in tears and begged him not to condemn him to a monastic life, but old Chelmsford, a very religious man, insisted. At that moment, Letholdus took his father's withered hand and offered to trade fates with his half-brother. After explaining to him for a long time how this was for the best of everyone, the dying man finally gave in. Walter was overjoyed, and ran off to tell everyone the tale, while Letholdus held his father's hand and prayed with him long into the night, when the Viscount finally drew his last breath. In the small hours of the morning, the eldest son left his father's body to be carried away, blessed, and prepared for burial while himself, he went to his suite and laid all of his things out. His clothes, books, finery, every everyday object that he used, out on the floor. As the sun rose, he took a horse, loaded it with bags of his things, and rode down to the village. Every object he owned, save for a copy of the Acts of Iomedae he had left at home, was given away to the poor, and the books he gave away to the cleric of the village temple. Even his horse was gifted to a band of travellers at the inn, and he returned on foot to his estate, wearing nothing but the simplest garments. He returned just in time for his father's funeral, where everyone stared to see their supposed next ruler standing at the very back, in a commoner's garb, while his younger brother shone in silk and velvet. Saying nothing but a quiet goodbye to those he knew, young Letholdus, aged only sixteen, embarked on a pilgrimage from Cassomir to Oppara. When he arrived, barely still alive, he was welcomed especially well as a son of a well standing noble family, and began his education as a priest. It wasn't long though before Letholdus began to discover he was wrong to look forward to the Temple being a different place than his home was, a place where virtue and righteousness reign and sin is frowned upon. In fact, the Temple of Iomedae turned out to be no better than than his home, indeed, in some ways even worse with the added hypocrisy of false morality. The same way as he used to before, he locked himself away from the excesses and debauchery that went on behind closed doors, and buried himself in books. It was there that he discovered knighthood. Tales of heros from ages past, righteous crusaders and noble warriors of virtue who could never fail. He read:
  
  "A Knight of Our Lady the Inheritor knows no fear, for his soul dons the armor of Faith, just as his body is protected by the armor of steel. The doubly armed need fear neither fiends, nor men. But should a Knight's virtue be tarnished, the power of his Faith is forever lost."
  
  Bewitched by the power of these words, and many like them, young Letholdus approached his teachers and told them of his desire to join the Order. They were not thrilled to hear this, as many had their own opinions on these supposedly divine warriors, but on the other hand, the boy was a thorn in their heel with his constant morality attacks, so they agreed. Why, they even offered him a cart.
  
  The Order
  
  Thrilled that he found such support in his mentors and oblivious of the real reason for it, Letholdus began his journey to knighthood. As soon as he arrived in Oppara, he was amazed to see all these men in white, just the way they were depicted in the books. It was very embarassing to introduce himself with the name of the family of notorious sinners, but was relieved to hear that he may choose a new name. It was then that he choose the plain name Jacob, so that he would not have to sound important. His training went extremely well, for the boy had the mindless dedication of a work ox. He did nothing but trained and studied day and night, but it was all easy to him, because finally, his dream of obtaining true virtue had come true. The longer he stayed and the further he came in his training, though, the more he uncovered that even in this supposedly most sacred Order of heavenly virtue, there was much sin to be found. There were many who were greedy, and instead of protecting and safekeeping people's property as they were sworn to do, they were bankers and moneylenders. Many were more concerned with earthly matters than those of spirit, and it did not end with feasting. Jacob was disgusted with all of this, but he concluded that if he could not find virtue here, he would not able to find it anywhere, and he would do whatever it took – even work hard enough to one day lead the Order and purge it of all sin. As years passed, he grew into a powerful warrior, a bitter taskmaster, trusted by his elders and disliked by his juniors to whom he was always impossibly strict and demanding, and very quick to punish every transgression. No matter how trivial a sin seemed to everyone else, to Jacob it was sacrilege and he was often secretly made fun of for being stuckup and self-righteous. One day, a missive arrived of trouble with skirmishes at the Quadiran border, requesting support of the Knights. Jacob wanted very much to go, but he was told by his elders, who mainly saw profit in this expedition, that he was to stay and lead the order in their absence. Jacob was heartbroken – he was convinced he was forbidden to go because he was not righteous enough, and good enough a warrior. Little did he know that they mainly left him behind so he wouldn't give them trouble about the sort of pillaging and looting they had in mind for Quadira – actually, so that he wouldn't give them trouble in general. Jacob was a pain in many unmentionable body parts to most. A year passed, then two. None of the elders, not even the Master, returned. Jacob liked to think they died heroic deaths defying impossibly larger armies of the faithless, but even he knew it wasn't exactly so. Some really perished; others managed to make it off with a wealth of their own and make their home somewhere on the sunny shores of Andora. Regardless of what happened, the annoying young knight, barely a few years after having taken his final vows, was at the head of the Order. Many envied him, and tried to manipulate or bribe him, but after a few such attempts, not many more came. Jacob could not be swayed in any way, and was completely impossible to reason with. He dealt harshly with all forms of corruption and frankly, most trembled in fear when he walked by. Under his iron fist, things changed in the Order, and one could not say it was really for the better, but Jacob was determined to return purity to this sacred place. As many years passed, generation after generation of knights and soldiers were trained in vain, for there was no more war to fight.
  
  Warren
  
  Jacob's hair turned from black to gray far faster than he would have liked, and the older he got, the more bitter he became. It seemed that everything he was doing was in vain, and no matter how hard he tried to restre the Order to its former glory, more and more members left and fewer joined, perhaps also due to his unforgiving conduct. His prayers began to sound more like mournful elegies than anything, and he felt himself fading like a dry plant. That was when he, during his endless patrols for sin, spied a very different child with the corner of his eye. A boy no older than perhaps eight years, who could be seen day after day working diligetly, never stopping to rest, and at that, he never seemed to be in a bad mood. Cheerful and friendly toward everyone, even those that tried to play jokes on him, he would seemingly light up the entire temple when he smiled. His interest piqued, Jacob checked the order records. He found that a few months earlier, a boy named Warren Weatherly from around Zimar was brought to be trained as a soldier. He was common of birth, a bastard child even, which was unusual, but was vouched and paid for by a Lord himself, who's also personally brought him. Jacob was no fool. He knew that when a Lord personally brings a bastard and pays for him, it's not just some common man's bastard. And so he wrote a missive to the said Lord, inquiring about the boy, as well as made sure he found the elder responsible for sticking him with a mop – that elder soon found himself severely demoted. Indeed, Jacob always knew how to make enemies. The Lord and Jacob exchanged a few letters, and after some pressure, the Lord finally admitted that it was not him who was the unfortunate child's father, but the Exarch of Zimar himself. He begged Jacob not to tell anyone, for the poor boy's mother was already murdered for knowing too much, and any such knowledge would very quickly lead to the child's demise as well. In spite of despising lies, Jacob reluctantly made an oath to the Lord that he wold never speak of it to anyone, not even the boy himself.
  If Jacob was imppressed and pleased when he saw Warren's work, that could not even begin to compare to his surprise when he first handed him a wooden sword and shield. Even if not the least clumsy person in the world, Warren was tireless and very strong for his age, and his advancement was meteoric. With his diligence, innocence and desire to do nothing but good, he quickly became the old bitter man's last and only hope. His entire life a failure to find perfect virtue, he was determined to do one last thing before he dies.
  
  If he could not find it, he would make it.