Sergeant Bram Holt

Bram Holt was not born for the Order of Dawn. He was born in Greyford, a village of millers that was on no map, and at sixteen he was already hauling sacks of flour heavier than himself.

A band of raiders came one winter. They burned the mill, the chapel and half the houses. Bram had no sword. He had a barrel lid and a hay fork, and with that he held the barn door for a whole night, with forty neighbours hiding behind it.

At dawn the Order of Dawn arrived. Ser Aldric found the boy still at the door, the lid split in two and still in his grip. He did not ask his name. He asked if he wanted to learn to do it properly.

Twelve years later, Bram is a sergeant. He does not preach, he does not pray out loud and he does not talk about destiny. His job is simpler: stand in the front line, raise the shield and not move from there until the last of his own is safe.

His soldiers say they have never seen him take a step back. He says it is because he never looks back. If you look back, the enemy sees a gap.

He has only one true friend: Emeric Dane, the standard-bearer. They joined the Order together. Emeric was three years older and could already read; Bram was the only one who could hold the pole when the wind blew head-on. Since then, wherever Emeric's banner flies, Bram's shield is right beneath it. No one in the Order remembers seeing them fight apart.

When a recruit asks him what a sergeant does, Bram shrugs.

"Count. Before the battle, I count my people. After, I count them again. My job is to make the numbers match."