Colyne Stewart, Jan AS XXXVI (2002)
It is known throughout all of Ardchreag that Brandt das Lederwerker is an armourer who is not an armourer. Of metal he knows naught, of chain mail a little, of leather very much indeed. Verily, he even knows how to turn pickle casks into functioning protective wear.
This armourer-who-is-not has held many workshops at his keep, helping the numerous fighters in training create their kits.
One such workshop took place this summer past, well attended by the populace of Ardchreag and neighbours of our host. A small swimming hole sat in one corner of the yard and it saw much activity as the heat was prodigious that day.
As I stood with Brandt discussing some aspect of armour we heard a shriek. I turned to see a small child hanging upside down over the swimming hole, legs entangled in a ladder, her head dipping beneath the water’s surface.
In the time it took me to turn, this most worthy gentle had already taken flight. I did not see him jump, he just appeared in the air, sailing over all obstacles between himself and the pool, diving into the water as gracefully as a swan and scooping up the frightened child in his arms.
After handing the child over to its thankful mother, Brandt climbed out of the water and assessed the damage. His clothing was soaked, and his personal scrip was sodden. Yea, even his fighting card, which had taken there years to get to him, and which he had just received, was near ruined.
Without thought to his own welfare or possible consequences, this man saved a life that day. Truly, he is a hero of the Cliffs.