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North he traveled clad in gold. The glorious sun rays reflecting off his golden armor. The spring breeze making the crimson plume of his Amnish helm sway lazily like tall grass. Among the Trade Way traveling families waved at the gallant Knight. A few young maidens turned a shade of rouge when the knight’s golden eye fell upon them. They hid themselves and giggled as the otherworldly beauty of his heavenly heritage stirred foolish youth crushes in their naive hearts.
But my Lord, Ser Bartholomew Daybreaker the 3rd most holy Knight of Lathander is beyond such earthly concerns. For the most devout and true of knights know that devotion, faith and duty are the only companions of the worthy. We continue north passing a few merchant caravans with anxious guards. Word that the north is engulfed by darkness, lack of faith and resolve. Ser Daybreaker would then assure the weary men that the greatest armor of them all is not mithril or the metal alloys of heathen elves or dwarves. But the greatest protection was faith in the Dawnfather.
Further north they pushed. Dealing Devine justice to blasphemous bandits who defile the daylight with brazen attacks on the poor and wretched that travel the Tradeway away from the vile dark horrors that plague the north. A sword forged in the heavens and blessed by all that’s good and pure is then cleaned a prayer offered for the souls of the Heretics. Then we finally arrived at the grand city of Baldur’s Gate.