#frandar hunding
by Henri Darveaux
“The steel that protects you is invisible. It runs in your veins, hot and shining like a mirage. Let it flow from you into the way you move. Move like this to spare you wounds: spin your spirit in circles.” - Frandar Hunding, The Book of Circles
Upon first glance, a Breton might not recognize a knight of Abibon-Gora as such. The only emblem of their prestige is their dual swords, curved as most of Hammerfell, and their ornately decorated crimson capes. Otherwise, they dress simply in the traditional, flowing garb of many desert-dwellers. These protectors of the Barony of Abibon-Gora don no armor for combat; their defense is their “invisible steel.”
For millennia, the Knights of the Wheel have been the marvel of this western region of Hammerfell, along the coast southwest of Sentinel. These valorous Redguards claim to need no more armor than the clothes they wear, for their faith in Julianos and the words of the legendary Frandar Hunding protect them from harm. Many locals even seem to believe this literally, thinking that their skin was made of steel. Your humble but skeptical author found these claims to be dubious, and wondered how their skin might truly be hardened thus. So I traveled to the city of Abibon-Gora to investigate.
When I arrived at the city, I immediately went to the Fighter’s Guild to hire one of their mercenaries. I found one such admirable Orc, who shall not be named here upon request of the Guild itself. Suffice to say, he was sufficient for my purposes, after offering a demonstration of his power. A magnificent slab of muscle enshrined within a glorious suit of Orcish armor, and wielding with brutal efficiency a mighty axe of similar caliber.
My dashing protector acquired, I proceeded to the hall of the Knights of the Wheel, and inquired of their seneschal where might be one of their most accomplished warriors. He offered me Sir Haribad, a tall Redguard woman whose highly-decorated mantle sharply contrasted her drab tunic. In the tradition of knightly honor, I challenged her to a duel, with my Orc companion as my representative combatant. She accepted, and we met the next day at the city’s arena. And as the two prepared to fight, I equipped my specially-enchanted ring of magic-sight.
You see, I had begun to suspect in my research that Abibon-Gora’s association with Julianos and the mystical defenses of its knights could not be coincidental. Despite the typical Redguard disdain for magic, I believed that there must be some spell or enchantment used by the Knights of the Wheel which gave them their special protection. So, prior to my journey to the city, I had purchased from my local enchanter a ring that can detect magic, allowing me to sense the presence of such effects.
When the ring took effect at the arena, I was immediately attuned to some magic in the room, giving me great, if brief, satisfaction. But as the detection focused, I noticed that the magic sourced not from Sir Haribad, but from my own combatant, instead. He seemed to possess some enchantment in his armor to enhance his strength. As per the scorn Redguards have for magic, duels such as these forbid its use. I immediately stood to stop the fight and my accidental duplicity, but was instead mesmerized by what I next witnessed.
The Orc’s enhanced strength was never utilized against Sir Haribad, for she would not allow his attacks to connect. She seemed to be a whirlwind of sword and crimson, avoiding and deflecting the Orc’s blows with profound grace, and striking through the chinks in his armor between his swings. Even the Orc’s dying rage could not halt the knight’s advance, and at last she stood victorious over his bleeding body, barely a tear in her simple clothing.
It occurred to me then that those passages of the Book of Circles, written by legendary Yokudan hero Frandar Hunding, that the Knights of the Wheel so praised, were far less mystical and far more literal than any Breton scholars had ever assumed. There was no magic at play, protecting the knights in lieu of armor; by eschewing heavy protection, they used their own agility to avoid their opponents’ attacks.
Upon the calling of the duel, I immediately approached Sir Haribad and the seneschal to apologize profusely, telling them about the enchantment on my combatant’s armor. They simply nodded. “It does not matter,” Sir Haribad said, wiping the blood from her blades off on her crimson cape.
“It does not matter?” I repeated, incredulous. Then, realizing, I asked, “You knew?”
She nodded. “I knew, yes. And I knew it would not matter.”
