Bringer of Light
Lewenhart Steele
The story of Lewenhart is one that starts with a stern upbringing, a tragic end to childhood, and hard lessons and perseverance throughout young adulthood.
Ala Mhigan Childhood
Lewenhart’s nameday is on the 12th sun of the 1st Umbral moon in the 6th Astral era, year 1543 under the watchful guardian, Rhalgr. Wulfric and Athala Steele lived humble lives in Ala Ganna, he as a Quarryman and she as a botanist. In his early years Lewenhart followed his mother around, learning the care and feeding of plants and fungi, he gained an appreciation for nature and reverence for Nophica’s realm in doing so.
By the time he was ten summers in, his father decided it was time to learn how to swing a pickaxe. Even for a Highlander his stature has always been impressive, standing standing five fulms and 6 ilms and weighing 125 ponzes by this age. He toiled hard in the quarry with his father, but enjoyed learning about rocks, minerals, jewels and metallurgy.
At the age of 14, Lewenhart had a myriad of skills, a strong mind and body, an appreciation for all things living and a sense of duty. The lives of everyone in Ala Ganna would change in the year 1557…
The Teeth of Garlemald
Lewenhart awoke to the sounds of his neighbors and friends screaming in terror. And of Garlean steel crashing down on the earth around Ala Gannha. The sounds of megitek and death filled the air as Wulfric gathered his family to try and escape under the cover of fire. The Last Forest would be the last time Lewenhart saw either his mother or father. An Imperial search party discovered them, and as other survivors tried to fight them off, almost all were killed. Lewenhart and a handful of others fled west as fast as their feet would carry them.The road to Ul’dah was long and even treacherous at times. On two occasions the party had to stop and put to rest a member too wounded from the invasion to see the journey end. Beasts, and beast men along the way helped dwindle their numbers from 21 down to just 4. At 14 Lewenhart was youngest, and was not taken too seriously, he was left in the city proper, spending a fortnight begging in Pearl Lane before hearing of a chance to prove himself in the arena. Having no other real options, he learned how to swing a sword.
Stone and Coin
Ul’dah was a place for the desperate and the decorated. Lewenhart was neither when he entered the pits. Not yet.He worked not for glory, but for bread. Not to be cheered, but to endure. It was there, beneath the choking dust and shuddering timbers of the mines, that he met Waldric Stonehand — a Highlander long past his prime, known not for strength of arm but for his quiet mastery of stone and flame. He wasn’t a trainer. He didn’t offer praise. But he saw something in Lewenhart: a will to endure, not impress.Where the mines taught Lewenhart how to labor, Waldric taught him how to craft a life from it. He spoke in simple truths, sharpened through scars and soot. Patience. Discipline. Restraint. Things no ledger recorded — but things a man needed when no one was watching.By nineteen, Lewenhart had enough coin and enough silence in him to leave Ul’dah behind. He walked away from the shafts, from the city, and from the only man who ever gave him something without expecting it back.He wandered for ten years, never staying long, never settling. The world taught him more — some of it cruel, some of it kind — but it was the lessons from Waldric that kept him alive.When he returned to Ul’dah at twenty-nine, no one remembered his name. He hadn’t been a master, after all. Just another hand in the dust.But a deed waited. Quietly, without ceremony.Waldric had died. No family, no kin. Just a will that included a modest amount of gil, a few tools, some armor, a beautiful white chocobo called Whitewind, and a cottage in the Goblet. The home of a miner who had become a goldsmith, and who had left everything in Lewenhart’s name. A final gesture from a man who owed him nothing, but gave him everything.
The ReturnYear 1572 –
The road back to Ul’dah was not one of triumph, but of quiet resolve. Lewenhart Steele returned to the city he had once bled in—not as a champion, nor as a beggar—but as a man honoring a debt left behind by the only soul who ever expected nothing from him.
Waldric Stonehand was long gone. The arena no longer echoed with the old Highlander’s boots, nor did his voice call out over the clang of steel. But the will he left behind bore Lewenhart’s name, and with it, a modest cottage in the Goblet. A final gesture from a man who had already given more than most.
With little ceremony and fewer words, Lewenhart took the keys—and with them, the first step into a new life.
He had no grand ambition. Only a question. “What now?”⸻The QuicksandIt was a man named Wymond who offered the first answer. A shifty figure with too much time and too many opinions, he insisted Lewenhart speak with Momodi of the Quicksand. She ran the Adventurers’ Guild like a tavern and a tight ship at once—stern, warm, and never one to waste time.
Momodi looked him over, took his measure, and offered him a chance: not to fight, but to serve. She sent him to speak with one Papashan, an old man with years of soldiering behind him, now stationed near the city gates.⸻Papashan’s TestPapashan did not ask for steel—only patience. A simple task: deliver twilight pretzels to three of his men stationed nearby. But Lewenhart could see the old captain’s eyes were searching for more than empty bellies. This wasn’t about food.
When the deliveries were done, Papashan dropped the pretense. They were watching for something… or someone. Something suspicious had taken root, and he needed eyes he could trust to look into it. He sent Lewenhart to the Sultan Tree, a sacred place, quiet and still.⸻The Sultan TreeBut it was not still for long.
A voidsent emerged—vile, hungry, and wrong. The air thickened with malice. Lewenhart stood his ground, blade in hand—but he did not stand alone. A stranger arrived. Smooth-spoken. Keen-eyed. Thancred.
Together, they brought the beast low.
Before Lewenhart could question his arrival, the creature was gone—and in its place, a crystal. Aether shimmered in the air, and time seemed to break.
Then she spoke.
A vision—Hydaelyn, the great Mother Crystal. Her voice rang not in his ears, but within his soul. She spoke of balance. Of darkness rising. Of fate bending toward a reckoning not yet seen.
And of a role he would play.
When the vision faded, only silence remained.
But something had shifted. A new current had caught him—and it pulled him forward.
Thancred was still there, calm but inquisitive. Lilira—the cloaked young woman who had brought them to the tree—was silent but resolute. She refused Thancred’s offer to return with them and instead chose to make her own way back to the dispatch yard.
Lewenhart said nothing. He understood pride when he saw it.
That brief moment—of battle, of the vision, of choices made—set into motion events that would change the realm.⸻The PromenadeUpon return, he found himself suddenly summoned to the Royal Promenade. There, under the towering pillars of Ul’dah’s heart, he met her.
Sultana Nanamo Ul Namo.
He was not there to be decorated, nor knighted. He was simply thanked. But the presence of Raubahn Aldynn, the Bull of Ala Mhigo and General of the Immortal Flames, made the gesture feel heavier. Raubahn’s words spoke of faith—of a warrior’s burden and of a realm in need.
As a parting gift, the Sultana offered a ring—simple, elegant, marked with Ul’dahn design. A token of gratitude… and of things to come.⸻The BanquetThat night, a banquet was held. Food, music, and pleasantries blurred together. Raubahn spoke of history—of warriors, of battles, of light and darkness. But as Lewenhart listened, his vision began to fade.
Another wave of aether overtook him.
A vision once again. Hydaelyn. The Echo. A future not yet written but already felt.
Then… darkness.⸻He awoke in the Hourglass Inn.
Momodi was there—arms crossed, relieved but mildly annoyed.
“‘Bout time you woke up,” she said. “Now I can get back to runnin’ my business.”
Lewenhart sat up slowly, hand to his head. The visions hadn’t left. Nor had the feeling that his life was no longer his alone.
And outside the window, the realm marched forward.⸻The EnvoyNo rest followed. Raubahn named him Ul’dah’s envoy, placing a sealed writ in his hands and bidding him fly by airship to Limsa Lominsa and Gridania. There, Lewenhart stood among their people and heard their leaders speak. Kan-E-Senna of Gridania, Merlwyb of Limsa, Nanamo of Ul’dah — each gave words of remembrance, each calling for unity after the Calamity’s flame.⸻The ScionsIn time, his path brought him to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn — a gathering of those who bore the Echo, guided by Minfilia Warde. They spoke of the primals: gods called forth by beast tribes, growing in strength and hunger. They named Lewenhart chosen of Hydaelyn, and asked for his strength against them.⸻IfritThe first test came swift. The Amalj’aa summoned Ifrit in the wastes of Thanalan, and Lewenhart was taken captive. Within the Bowl of Embers, flame and ruin encircled him. But the Echo shielded his soul where others fell, and he struck Ifrit down.⸻The Weight of VictoryThe victory was not quiet. City-states took notice; the Scions, too. From there, Lewenhart’s steps carried him further afield — to Gridania’s wood and Limsa’s seas — answering calls as primals stirred and Garleans schemed.⸻Toward the NavelNow, word came from Limsa Lominsa: the Kobolds of Vylbrand had roused their primal, Titan. Preparations gathered, allies marshaled, and a banquet was set before the trial — one last calm before the rock-god’s roar.⸻The Lord of CragsInto the heart of Kobold territory Lewenhart went, guided by Lominsan allies and the Scions’ counsel. Deep within the Navel, Titan rose in fury — a mountain of stone and wrath. The primal’s roar shook the cavern, his weight splitting the earth as he sought to crush all intruders.
Lewenhart stood firm. With shield raised and blade steady, he met Titan’s might head-on. The battle was brutal — landslides crashing, the ground itself threatening to fall away — but blow by blow, he endured. With his allies, he drove steel and spell into the primal’s form until at last Titan’s body crumbled, his roar fading into dust and aether.
The cavern fell silent. The Lord of Crags was undone.⸻The RumorIn the bustle of the Coliseum, Lewenhart heard Lulutsu’s excited whisper. The Sultansworn, Ul’dah’s royal guard, were said to be opening their ranks—outsiders could now learn the ways of the Paladin. If he was serious about it, she told him, he should seek Captain Jenlyns on the Hustings Strip.⸻The CaptainLewenhart found Jenlyns at the Royal Promenade. The Captain was every bit the Sultansworn—disciplined, stern, his words measured like strikes. He explained what it meant to walk the path: a Paladin’s shield was no ornament, nor a sellsword’s tool. It was an oath to protect crown and realm, to put duty before coin.
But Jenlyns was not quick to grant such honor. He gave Lewenhart a trial. South of Little Ala Mhigo, a brazier lay unlit. He was to set it ablaze, draw the restless dead to its fire, and prove his worth by returning with the ashes of their corrupted hearts.⸻Trial by FlameThe ruins were still and broken when Lewenhart arrived. He lit the brazier, and soon the dead stirred—ashkin drawn by the blaze. They came in droves, hungry and relentless. Sword in hand, shield raised, Lewenhart cut them down one by one, the clang of steel echoing through the night.
It was then, amid the fight, that another figure appeared: a towering Roegadyn Paladin clad in mail. He did not strike at Lewenhart, nor speak a word. Instead, when the battle was won, the stranger pressed a crystal into Lewenhart’s hand—a shimmering stone thrumming with weight and history—before vanishing into the dark as suddenly as he had come.⸻The Soul of the PaladinBack in Ul’dah, Lewenhart placed the ashes before Jenlyns. The Captain nodded, but his eyes fixed on the crystal Lewenhart carried. He named it the Soul of the Paladin, a relic bound to the oath itself. Yet his voice hardened when he realized its source. The Roegadyn who had given it was no ally—he was a traitor, once Sultansworn, who had abandoned crown and oath alike.
Jenlyns’ meaning was clear: Lewenhart had passed the trial, but his journey would not be easy. To wear the soul was to inherit both its honor and its stain. A Paladin he now was, but one already tied to a shadow that would have to be faced.⸻Honor LostBack in Ul’dah, Jenlyns received Lewenhart with grim purpose. Murmurs had spread: the sacred blade Oathkeeper had been stolen by a traitor, and the honor of the Sultansworn with it. The order’s reputation lay tarnished, and he needed help to restore it.
Jenlyns tasked Lewenhart with a test of skill and will. He was to travel to Outer La Noscea, light the brazier, and face the leaping ringtails drawn by its flame. These creatures were fragile yet fierce—perfect for honing a Paladin’s resolve.
In burning sands, Lewenhart ignited the brazier. The creatures swarmed from the shadows, testing his blade and shield. He held fast, proving that his conviction was as strong as his arm.
Returned to Jenlyns with proof of his victory, Lewenhart had earned a new skill: Sheltron, a shield wall of defense, along with the mastery trait that strengthened his Oath gauge through effort.
This was Honor regained—not through blade or banter, but through tested mettle and silent resolve.⸻Power StrugglesJenlyns spoke of a deeper shame. The sword Oathkeeper, sacred to the Sultansworn, had been stolen by Solkzagyl, a captain once held in the highest regard. His betrayal stained not only the order, but the oath itself. If Lewenhart was to continue on the Paladin’s path, he would need to prove himself once more.
He was sent to the banks of the Yugr’am River in eastern Thanalan, where a brazier stood waiting. Lighting the flame would draw creatures from the water—scales and claws, quick and violent. Jenlyns claimed they would be a fitting trial, their swiftness and ferocity demanding steady shield and certain blade.
Lewenhart lit the brazier, and the river stirred. Lepidotes rose from the shallows, hissing as they rushed toward the fire. He met them head on, every strike steady, every parry measured. The water ran dark by the end, but his resolve had not faltered.
He returned to Jenlyns with the proof of his trial complete. The Captain regarded him with a quiet nod. The time was coming when Lewenhart would face Solkzagyl himself, and this victory marked another step down that path.⸻Poisoned HeartsJenlyns’ voice held a tight edge when he spoke next. Records he’d unearthed pointed to a chilling truth: as Solkzagyl rose to power, several of the Sultansworn had died in mysterious ways—some in combat, others in their barracks at night. Poison was the common thread, and worse, clues suggested internal complicity.
The order’s future had been hollowed out from within, and Solkzagyl stood at its heart. To root out this betrayal, Lewenhart would need to gather the old guard’s legacy: the Gallant Armor, scattered across southern Thanalan. Each piece lay locked in coffers, guarded by Sultansworn themselves. Lewenhart would need to reclaim each piece by proving himself in steel.
He tracked down each armor fragment—Coronet, Gauntlets, Cuisses, and Sollerets—defeating the guards and reclaiming the gear. Each armor piece reclaimed felt like a step toward restoring what was lost.
When he presented the complete set, Jenlyns acknowledged the truth of it. The preparations were ready—time to confront Solkzagyl himself. A parley had been arranged, and the real reckoning loomed.⸻Parley in the SagoliiJenlyns arranged a meeting deep in the Sagolii Desert—south of Forgotten Springs. It was supposed to be a parley with Solkzagyl, to negotiate the return of the stolen sword Oathkeeper. Lewenhart was to go with him, moving silently in case others took advantage of the meeting.
But when they met, Jenlyns turned his sword on Lewenhart. Accused of colluding with Solkzagyl and the Monetarists, he would not listen—not even when Lewenhart pleaded innocence. The fight turned grim—Jenlyns fought alongside his guards, convinced of betrayal.
Just as the clash reached its brutal peak, one of Jenlyns’s own men tried to kill him. In that moment Solkzagyl appeared. He saved Jenlyns’s life, exposing that the real conspirators were the Monetarists who manipulated Jenlyns’s suspicions from the start. Wounded but coherent, Jenlyns now realized his mistake.
Solkzagyl promised to escort Jenlyns safely back to Ul’dah. With truth revealed, the real fight began—not between brothers, but against the corrupt undercurrents threatening the order.⸻Keeping the OathJenlyns asked Lewenhart to stay back, warning that his campaign against the Monetarist cabal would be dangerous—and that Solkzagyl justified his trust with actions, not words. Solkzagyl insisted on meeting him at a tunnel in central Thanalan, and told Lewenhart it was dangerous for Jenlyns to face the assassins alone. Trusting the free paladin’s conviction, Solkzagyl silently offered his sword to the cause before heading to Snowcloak on his own.
At the chosen battleground near Snowcloak in Coerthas, Lewenhart arrived to find Jenlyns locked in battle with the Monetarists’ agents—assassins who’d come to end him. Solkzagyl had been right; the free paladin had reached the fight before the real threat struck.
Lewenhart leapt into battle. Alongside Solkzagyl and Jenlyns, they delivered a hard blow to the cabal’s agents. When the dust settled, Solkzagyl stepped back and entrusted Jenlyns with leadership of the Sultansworn once more. Lewenhart, standing silent shoulder to shoulder, had helped restore the order’s honor.
Back in Ul’dah, at the Hustings Strip, Jenlyns personally repainted Lewenhart’s place in the order. He gave him the Gallant Surcoat, armor once reserved for the greatest of the Sultansworn—and formally recognized Lewenhart as a Paladin, unbound by rank, devoted only to the protection of the realm.
The RumorIn the bustle of the Coliseum, Lewenhart heard Lulutsu’s excited whisper. The Sultansworn, Ul’dah’s royal guard, were said to be opening their ranks—outsiders could now learn the ways of the Paladin. If he was serious about it, she told him, he should seek Captain Jenlyns on the Hustings Strip.The CaptainLewenhart found Jenlyns at the Royal Promenade. The Captain was every bit the Sultansworn—disciplined, stern, his words measured like strikes. He explained what it meant to walk the path: a Paladin’s shield was no ornament, nor a sellsword’s tool. It was an oath to protect crown and realm, to put duty before coin.But Jenlyns was not quick to grant such honor. He gave Lewenhart a trial. South of Little Ala Mhigo, a brazier lay unlit. He was to set it ablaze, draw the restless dead to its fire, and prove his worth by returning with the ashes of their corrupted hearts.Trial by FlameThe ruins were still and broken when Lewenhart arrived. He lit the brazier, and soon the dead stirred—ashkin drawn by the blaze. They came in droves, hungry and relentless. Sword in hand, shield raised, Lewenhart cut them down one by one, the clang of steel echoing through the night.It was then, amid the fight, that another figure appeared: a towering Roegadyn Paladin clad in mail. He did not strike at Lewenhart, nor speak a word. Instead, when the battle was won, the stranger pressed a crystal into Lewenhart’s hand—a shimmering stone thrumming with weight and history—before vanishing into the dark as suddenly as he had come.The Soul of the PaladinBack in Ul’dah, Lewenhart placed the ashes before Jenlyns. The Captain nodded, but his eyes fixed on the crystal Lewenhart carried. He named it the Soul of the Paladin, a relic bound to the oath itself. Yet his voice hardened when he realized its source. The Roegadyn who had given it was no ally—he was a traitor, once Sultansworn, who had abandoned crown and oath alike.Jenlyns’ meaning was clear: Lewenhart had passed the trial, but his journey would not be easy. To wear the soul was to inherit both its honor and its stain. A Paladin he now was, but one already tied to a shadow that would have to be faced.Honor LostBack in Ul’dah, Jenlyns received Lewenhart with grim purpose. Murmurs had spread: the sacred blade Oathkeeper had been stolen by a traitor, and the honor of the Sultansworn with it. The order’s reputation lay tarnished, and he needed help to restore it.Jenlyns tasked Lewenhart with a test of skill and will. He was to travel to Outer La Noscea, light the brazier, and face the leaping ringtails drawn by its flame. These creatures were fragile yet fierce—perfect for honing a Paladin’s resolve.In burning sands, Lewenhart ignited the brazier. The creatures swarmed from the shadows, testing his blade and shield. He held fast, proving that his conviction was as strong as his arm.Returned to Jenlyns with proof of his victory, Lewenhart had earned a new skill: Sheltron, a shield wall of defense, along with the mastery trait that strengthened his Oath gauge through effort.This was Honor regained—not through blade or banter, but through tested mettle and silent resolve.Power StrugglesJenlyns spoke of a deeper shame. The sword Oathkeeper, sacred to the Sultansworn, had been stolen by Solkzagyl, a captain once held in the highest regard. His betrayal stained not only the order, but the oath itself. If Lewenhart was to continue on the Paladin’s path, he would need to prove himself once more.He was sent to the banks of the Yugr’am River in eastern Thanalan, where a brazier stood waiting. Lighting the flame would draw creatures from the water—scales and claws, quick and violent. Jenlyns claimed they would be a fitting trial, their swiftness and ferocity demanding steady shield and certain blade.Lewenhart lit the brazier, and the river stirred. Lepidotes rose from the shallows, hissing as they rushed toward the fire. He met them head on, every strike steady, every parry measured. The water ran dark by the end, but his resolve had not faltered.He returned to Jenlyns with the proof of his trial complete. The Captain regarded him with a quiet nod. The time was coming when Lewenhart would face Solkzagyl himself, and this victory marked another step down that path.Poisoned HeartsJenlyns’ voice held a tight edge when he spoke next. Records he’d unearthed pointed to a chilling truth: as Solkzagyl rose to power, several of the Sultansworn had died in mysterious ways—some in combat, others in their barracks at night. Poison was the common thread, and worse, clues suggested internal complicity.The order’s future had been hollowed out from within, and Solkzagyl stood at its heart. To root out this betrayal, Lewenhart would need to gather the old guard’s legacy: the Gallant Armor, scattered across southern Thanalan. Each piece lay locked in coffers, guarded by Sultansworn themselves. Lewenhart would need to reclaim each piece by proving himself in steel.He tracked down each armor fragment—Coronet, Gauntlets, Cuisses, and Sollerets—defeating the guards and reclaiming the gear. Each armor piece reclaimed felt like a step toward restoring what was lost.When he presented the complete set, Jenlyns acknowledged the truth of it. The preparations were ready—time to confront Solkzagyl himself. A parley had been arranged, and the real reckoning loomed.Parley in the SagoliiJenlyns arranged a meeting deep in the Sagolii Desert—south of Forgotten Springs. It was supposed to be a parley with Solkzagyl, to negotiate the return of the stolen sword Oathkeeper. Lewenhart was to go with him, moving silently in case others took advantage of the meeting.But when they met, Jenlyns turned his sword on Lewenhart. Accused of colluding with Solkzagyl and the Monetarists, he would not listen—not even when Lewenhart pleaded innocence. The fight turned grim—Jenlyns fought alongside his guards, convinced of betrayal.Just as the clash reached its brutal peak, one of Jenlyns’s own men tried to kill him. In that moment Solkzagyl appeared. He saved Jenlyns’s life, exposing that the real conspirators were the Monetarists who manipulated Jenlyns’s suspicions from the start. Wounded but coherent, Jenlyns now realized his mistake.Solkzagyl promised to escort Jenlyns safely back to Ul’dah. With truth revealed, the real fight began—not between brothers, but against the corrupt undercurrents threatening the order.Keeping the OathJenlyns asked Lewenhart to stay back, warning that his campaign against the Monetarist cabal would be dangerous—and that Solkzagyl justified his trust with actions, not words. Solkzagyl insisted on meeting him at a tunnel in central Thanalan, and told Lewenhart it was dangerous for Jenlyns to face the assassins alone. Trusting the free paladin’s conviction, Solkzagyl silently offered his sword to the cause before heading to Snowcloak on his own.At the chosen battleground near Snowcloak in Coerthas, Lewenhart arrived to find Jenlyns locked in battle with the Monetarists’ agents—assassins who’d come to end him. Solkzagyl had been right; the free paladin had reached the fight before the real threat struck.Lewenhart leapt into battle. Alongside Solkzagyl and Jenlyns, they delivered a hard blow to the cabal’s agents. When the dust settled, Solkzagyl stepped back and entrusted Jenlyns with leadership of the Sultansworn once more. Lewenhart, standing silent shoulder to shoulder, had helped restore the order’s honor.Back in Ul’dah, at the Hustings Strip, Jenlyns personally repainted Lewenhart’s place in the order. He gave him the Gallant Surcoat, armor once reserved for the greatest of the Sultansworn—and formally recognized Lewenhart as a Paladin, unbound by rank, devoted only to the protection of the realm.
I’m 37, living in Colorado, and I work as an electrician. I love my career, though I’ll admit I’m still learning every day. When I’m not working, I get hooked on immersive games — the kind you can disappear into and really live the story.I used to play FFXI on the Odin server with the Last of Nyx linkshell. The friendships I made there showed me how strong MMO bonds can be. In FFXIV, I haven’t found that same depth of connection yet, but I’d love to. While I’m here for the story, I’m just as eager to share the experience and build those lasting bonds again.Thanks for checking out my bio, and for being part of such a great community.
