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Description
Once upon a time there was a boy who lived on a farm who over his child (in defiance of the preconceptions of pastoral mined romantics) came to despise agriculture. He hated sowing, he hated reaping, he hated threshing, he hated pulling potatoes out of the mud, cleaning cabbages and the smell of pigshit. Most of all he did not like everyone else looking down on him and the knowledge that he'd never amount to anything. He'd tried to get an apprenticeship with a smith, a weaver, a potter and a mason, which only got it turned down, the class of artisans generally not taking in those who were not of their families. The local baron had his five knights and twenty five families from which armsmen were drawn. He was uninterested in adding field hands to his host after a decade had past since the last major war.

Eventually, as the boy grew into a young man he became consigned to a life rural drudgery until one day he saw a group of men came through in Crimson and White with Gold Trimming. They said they were from the king and that they wanted good solid men for the new Royal Army. The King of Theryion was raising new regiments, much to the annoyance of the Baron. None the least by the fact that they boasted that valiant soldiers could win knighthood and lordship through service. Seeing his way out, he signed up and left his village and never looked back.

After several days of marching with the recruiters he got to the fort of the thirteenth line regiment, where he got two months of severe training by ruthless taskmasters on how to march, form into lines of battle, pitch tents, tend wounds and to jump to orders. He was a three-quarter inch flintlock musket with bayonet which he learned how to get off three shots a minute with. His uniform was, unlike all the other clothes he had, was colorful and new as well as a canteen and a pouch for cartridges on his belt. It also came with a helmet and a sturdy steel chest plate 3mm thick that could stop a musket ball. He came to fit in well with his company of 144 (of which the thirteenth line regiment had six) and earned the approval of his instructors, who made him a corporal in the army on his graduation.

Over the next twelve years he'd prove himself in battle after battle as his company got a reputation for valor and bravery, in no small part due to his actions in putting down Lord Delvinder's Rebellion (which mostly was composed of armsmen, knights and hastily trained levies) and the invasion of the Horsemen of Norhard (in which his forces stood down some of the greatest chivalry of the era). In both wars he stood firm, poured volley after volley of lead into his foes and bayoneted them. Even if he was used as bait to drawn heavy cavalry into the field of fire of field guns more often than he cared.

Description
Once upon a time there was a boy who lived on a farm who over his child (in defiance of the preconceptions of pastoral mined romantics) came to despise agriculture. He hated sowing, he hated reaping, he hated threshing, he hated pulling potatoes out of the mud, cleaning cabbages and the smell of pigshit. Most of all he did not like everyone else looking down on him and the knowledge that he'd never amount to anything. He'd tried to get an apprenticeship with a smith, a weaver, a potter and a mason, which only got it turned down, the class of artisans generally not taking in those who were not of their families. The local baron had his five knights and twenty five families from which armsmen were drawn. He was uninterested in adding field hands to his host after a decade had past since the last major war.

Eventually, as the boy grew into a young man he became consigned to a life rural drudgery until one day he saw a group of men came through in Crimson and White with Gold Trimming. They said they were from the king and that they wanted good solid men for the new Royal Army. The King of Theryion was raising new regiments, much to the annoyance of the Baron. None the least by the fact that they boasted that valiant soldiers could win knighthood and lordship through service. Seeing his way out, he signed up and left his village and never looked back.

After several days of marching with the recruiters he got to the fort of the thirteenth line regiment, where he got two months of severe training by ruthless taskmasters on how to march, form into lines of battle, pitch tents, tend wounds and to jump to orders. He was a three-quarter inch flintlock musket with bayonet which he learned how to get off three shots a minute with. His uniform was, unlike all the other clothes he had, was colorful and new as well as a canteen and a pouch for cartridges on his belt. It also came with a helmet and a sturdy steel chest plate 3mm thick that could stop a musket ball. He came to fit in well with his company of 144 (of which the thirteenth line regiment had six) and earned the approval of his instructors, who made him a corporal in the army on his graduation.

Over the next twelve years he'd prove himself in battle after battle as his company got a reputation for valor and bravery, in no small part due to his actions in putting down Lord Delvinder's Rebellion (which mostly was composed of armsmen, knights and hastily trained levies) and the invasion of the Horsemen of Norhard (in which his forces stood down some of the greatest chivalry of the era). In both wars he stood firm, poured volley after volley of lead into his foes and bayoneted them. Even if he was used as bait to drawn heavy cavalry into the field of fire of field guns more often than he cared.