The Harsey family had worked the deep woods around Woodfell for as long as anyone could remember, their names carved into the very timber that fed Brighton's legendary shipyards. Generations of Harseys had mastered the art of selecting, felling, and transporting the massive blackwood oaks and other valuable timber that the Barony of Rulana's prosperity depended upon, and young Gareth Harsey grew up expecting to continue that proud tradition. His father, Magnus Harsey, was renowned throughout Woodfell as a man who could read a tree's worth with a single glance—knowing which would yield the straightest grain for ship masts, which possessed the density required for hull planking, and which harbored hidden rot that would doom any vessel incorporating their wood. Magnus taught his three sons these skills from the time they could walk, leading them into the shadows of the Dormont Forest where mystery and danger lurked alongside opportunity and honest labor.
But Gareth, the middle son, possessed a restlessness that troubled his father. While his older brother Willem showed the patience and judgment necessary for the master woodsman's trade, and his younger brother Tomlin demonstrated the raw strength needed to fell the ancient giants, Gareth chafed under the familiar patterns of family tradition. He learned the woodcraft well enough—how to move silently through undergrowth, how to read animal sign and weather patterns, how to survive alone in the wilderness for weeks at a time. Yet each evening when the family returned to their modest home on Woodfell's outskirts, Gareth would stare toward the south where, somewhere beyond the forest's edge, the great Hall of the Simmaron stood watch against the goblin hordes that threatened all civilization.
The stories of the King's Patrollers had captivated Gareth since childhood. Woodfell lay far from the constant danger that communities near the Simmaron Woods faced, but every frontier town knew the tales of those elite rangers who maintained the ancient compact forged in the Age of the Old Gods. Traveling merchants and the occasional patroller passing through Woodfell on business spoke of desperate battles against goblin raiders, of dark magic lurking in forgotten places, of brotherhood forged through shared sacrifice and unwavering duty. These stories struck a chord in young Gareth that the honest but predictable life of a woodsman never could, awakening dreams of service and purpose beyond the careful selection of timber and the steady rhythm of axe against tree.
The breaking point came in Year 501, when Gareth reached his eighteenth year. His father had arranged for him to begin training under old Reston Ashford, one of Woodfell's most respected master foresters, a position that would eventually lead to prosperity and prestige within the town's timber industry. On the morning he was meant to report to Ashford's operation, Gareth instead shouldered a pack containing his few possessions and the matched pair of hand axes his grandfather had given him, left a note for his family explaining his decision, and began the long journey southwest toward the Simmaron Woods. The letter spoke of duty and calling, of needing to serve in a higher capacity than even the essential work of providing timber for Seacea's ships. Magnus Harsey, upon reading his son's words, said nothing for a long while, then placed the letter in his family chronicle with the simple notation: "Gone to be a patroller. May the forest keep him."
The journey from Woodfell to the Hall took Gareth three weeks, following the Aundaria Highway south through the Barony of Rulana, past the engineering marvels of Brighton where his family's timber became the vessels that made Seacea the dominant maritime power, then west into territories increasingly marked by the signs of frontier life. The change from prosperous interior lands to the watchful communities near the Simmaron was gradual but unmistakable—fewer travelers on the roads, more fortified settlements, weapons carried openly, and an underlying tension that spoke of ever-present danger. Gareth felt his anticipation growing with each mile, the dreams that had driven him from home seeming more real and immediate as he drew closer to his destination.
When Gareth first laid eyes on the Hall of the Simmaron in Year 501, he was struck by how different it seemed from his imaginings. The stories had prepared him for a great fortress, but the reality was more subtle—a complex of solid wooden buildings integrated into the ancient forest itself, defensible but not ostentatious, built for function rather than display. The great blackwood oaks surrounding the Hall were giants that dwarfed even the finest specimens in the Dormont Forest, their massive trunks and interlocking canopy creating natural defensive positions while providing the Hall with an aura of ancient permanence. Here, Gareth thought, was a place that understood the forest in a way even his father's generation never quite managed—not as mere resource to be harvested, but as living ally and strategic advantage.
His reception at the Hall was less welcoming than he had hoped. Commander Aldwin Merriweather, a grizzled veteran who oversaw recruit training, looked Gareth up and down with obvious skepticism. "Another woodcutter's son seeking glory," Merriweather muttered, then proceeded to explain exactly how hard patroller life would be, how many recruits failed to complete training, and how even successful patrollers often met brutal ends at the hands, claws, or weapons of the enemies they faced. Gareth listened patiently, then simply stated he was ready to begin. Something in his steadiness—or perhaps his stubborn refusal to be discouraged—must have satisfied Merriweather, because the commander accepted him as a recruit with the warning that most woodsmen thought their wilderness skills prepared them for patroller work, and most learned otherwise through painful experience.
The early months of training proved every bit as challenging as Merriweather had promised. While Gareth's woodcraft gave him advantages over recruits from towns and cities, he quickly discovered that survival skills useful for timber harvesting translated poorly to the specialized requirements of frontier defense. His ability to read trees was useless for tracking goblins, his experience with forestry axes provided little foundation for combat techniques, and his patient approach to identifying valuable timber was dangerously inadequate for the split-second decisions required in actual battle. Time and again, Gareth found himself humbled by veteran patrollers who seemed to move through the forest like ghosts, who could identify goblin sign he never noticed, who combined woodcraft with warrior skills in ways that revealed how little he actually knew.
The nickname that would define Gareth's career emerged during his second month of training in a moment of spectacular failure that veteran patrollers still recounted decades later. Commander Merriweather had assigned the new recruits to a navigation exercise deep in the Simmaron Woods, providing each with basic provisions and instructions to reach a specified location by dawn. Gareth, confident in his abilities after growing up in the Dormont Forest, set off with typical enthusiasm. Unfortunately, the Simmaron Woods proved far more challenging than anything near Woodfell, and Gareth's route-finding became progressively more confused as night fell. Rather than admit error and adjust his approach, he pushed forward with characteristic stubbornness, convinced that his instincts would eventually prove correct.
By midnight, Gareth was hopelessly lost, cold, miserable, and beginning to suspect he had made a terrible mistake in leaving his family's secure livelihood for this life of hardship. His pride prevented him from calling for help, even though patroller protocol required recruits in genuine difficulty to signal their position rather than risk injury or death through foolish persistence. He sat shivering beneath an oak tree, contemplating his situation, when an elderly trapper named Jasper found him purely by chance while checking nearby snares. Jasper, seeing the young patroller's predicament, offered to share his camp and provide a warm meal. Gareth initially refused, invoking patroller principles of self-sufficiency, but his resistance crumbled when Jasper waved some jerked squirrel meat before him—hunger proving stronger than pride.
The following morning, when Gareth finally limped back to the Hall nearly half a day late and accompanied by an amused trapper, he found Commander Merriweather waiting with several other recruits who had completed the exercise successfully. Merriweather's disappointment was palpable, but rather than immediately punishing Gareth's failure, the commander asked the young recruit to explain what had gone wrong. Gareth, to his credit, provided an honest accounting of his mistakes—his overconfidence in skills that proved inadequate, his stubborn persistence despite clear evidence he was lost, his foolish pride that nearly resulted in serious consequences. Merriweather listened without comment, then delivered a simple verdict: "Your hardheaded arsehole approach to this exercise nearly got you killed. Remember that the next time your pride tells you to ignore common sense."
The other recruits, hearing Merriweather's assessment, immediately seized upon the characterization. "Hard-arsey" became Gareth's nickname within days, initially used mockingly by those who had successfully completed the navigation exercise. But Gareth, rather than resenting the name, embraced it with a wry acceptance that gradually transformed its meaning. He acknowledged his stubbornness and pride, admitted his failures openly, and then proceeded to work harder than any other recruit to develop the skills he lacked. The same determination that had driven him to leave Woodfell and that had nearly doomed him in the navigation exercise now became focused entirely on becoming the best patroller possible, regardless of how long it took or how much humiliation he had to endure along the way.
His woodcraft background, while initially inadequate for patroller work, eventually became a significant asset once he learned to adapt it properly. The patience required for identifying valuable timber translated into excellent observational skills once he learned what to observe. His understanding of how trees grew and how forests developed helped him predict terrain features and identify likely routes through difficult country. Most valuably, his experience working with timber crews taught him how to coordinate group efforts, communicate clearly under challenging conditions, and maintain focus during exhausting physical labor—all skills that served him well as he advanced through the ranks.
Gareth served his first years as a common patroller in various squadrons, learning the rhythms of frontier defense and gradually developing the combat skills, tactical knowledge, and leadership qualities that the King's Patrol valued. He participated in dozens of skirmishes against goblin raiders from the fortress of Greth, fought alongside veteran patrollers during larger incursions, and slowly earned the respect of his peers through steady competence rather than dramatic heroics. His twin axes, inherited from his grandfather and carried from Woodfell, became his signature weapons—tools he understood at an instinctive level from years of working timber, now adapted to the brutal close-quarters combat that characterized fights with goblin heavy infantry.
The transformation from recruit to veteran occurred gradually during these years, marked by countless small lessons learned through experience and observation. Gareth studied the forest warfare tactics that made Simmaron Hall the most effective frontier defense force, learned to read goblin behavior and anticipate their strategies, and developed the situational awareness necessary for surviving the sudden violence that could erupt anywhere in the patrol areas. He served under various squad leaders and squadron commanders, absorbing different leadership styles while beginning to understand the complexities of maintaining unit cohesion, making tactical decisions under pressure, and balancing mission objectives against the lives of patrollers under his command.
It was during this period that Gareth first encountered Jerrick Bur, a young recruit from the other side of the Simmaron who joined the Hall in Year 509. The similarity in their backgrounds—both coming from frontier communities, both seeking something beyond their expected paths, both struggling to adapt civilian woodcraft to military requirements—created a natural connection despite their different temperaments. Where Gareth was loud, blunt, and sometimes abrasive, Jerrick demonstrated a quieter intensity and more contemplative approach to the challenges they faced. The two served together in various capacities over the years, developing the kind of professional relationship forged through shared hardship and mutual respect, though Jerrick's natural talent for patroller work contrasted with Gareth's more gradual mastery through sheer stubborn determination.
Gareth's promotion to sergeant came in Year 518 after he successfully led a desperate defense of a patrol station threatened by a major goblin assault. With his regular squad leader severely wounded in the initial attack, Gareth took command of the station's defense, organizing the surviving patrollers into an effective fighting force despite being heavily outnumbered and cut off from reinforcement. His tactical decisions during the two-day siege—rationing ammunition carefully, coordinating counterattacks that kept the goblins off-balance, maintaining morale despite mounting casualties—demonstrated the leadership qualities that commanders valued. When relief finally arrived, the station still stood, and Gareth's sergeant bars were presented to him at the battlefield by Commander Thomas Drake himself, who noted that sometimes the most effective leaders weren't the ones who sought glory but those who simply refused to accept defeat regardless of circumstances.
As a sergeant, Gareth brought his characteristic bluntness and demanding standards to the role, earning a reputation as someone who would drive his squads hard but never ask them to do anything he wouldn't do himself. His physical presence—massive shoulders built from years of swinging axes both for timber work and combat, thick beard that added to his bear-like appearance, and a voice that could carry across a battlefield—made him instantly recognizable and somewhat intimidating to new patrollers. The "Hard-arsey" nickname, by now firmly established throughout the Hall, had transformed from mockery to a term of grudging respect. Veterans used it with affection, acknowledging both his stubbornness and his proven competence, while new recruits learned quickly that Sergeant Harsey's gruff exterior concealed genuine concern for their survival and development.
His training methods reflected lessons learned from his own difficult early experiences. Rather than allowing recruits to fail spectacularly as he had done, Gareth pushed them hard from the beginning, identifying weaknesses early and forcing them to address deficiencies before those gaps could prove fatal in actual combat. He was particularly harsh on recruits who demonstrated the same overconfidence and stubbornness that had nearly destroyed his own career, seeing in them the younger version of himself who had to learn difficult lessons the hard way. Veterans who served under him universally acknowledged that Sergeant Harsey's squads were always among the best-prepared units in the Hall, their survival rates significantly higher than average despite being assigned some of the most dangerous patrol sectors.
The years between his promotion and Jerrick's departure from the Hall in Year 527 saw Gareth continue to develop as a military leader while maintaining the essential roughness that defined his personality. He never became refined or diplomatic—his blunt manner and occasional profanity remained unchanged—but his tactical judgment became increasingly sound and his ability to assess battlefield situations and make effective decisions under pressure marked him as a sergeant worth keeping despite his sometimes abrasive personality. His relationship with Jerrick during this period reflected mutual professional respect, though Gareth privately acknowledged that his friend possessed natural talents for frontier warfare that he himself had only achieved through years of hard work and painful lessons.
When Jerrick left the Hall to marry and raise a family in Rell, Gareth understood the decision even if it saddened him to lose a capable comrade. The demands of patroller life—constant danger, frequent casualties, the grinding stress of maintaining vigilance against enemies who never truly rested—burned out many good men over time, and those who survived long enough to have families often chose to step away while they still could. Gareth himself had never married, his life so thoroughly dedicated to the Hall and its mission that personal relationships beyond the brotherhood of patrollers seemed impossible to maintain. He wished Jerrick well, privately hoping his friend would find the peace and happiness that seemed to elude so many who had served on the frontier, then returned his attention to the duties that never ceased regardless of who stayed or left.
The years following Jerrick's departure saw Gareth continue his service with the same steady competence that had defined his entire career. He trained successive generations of recruits, led countless patrols into dangerous territory, fought in more skirmishes and battles than he could accurately count, and gradually became one of those grizzled veterans whose presence provided continuity and institutional memory as younger patrollers cycled through service. His twin axes, now worn from years of use and carefully maintained through countless campaigns, remained his preferred weapons—an enduring link to his family heritage and his grandfather's legacy despite the very different path his life had taken from what Magnus Harsey had envisioned all those years ago in Woodfell.
By Year 539, when Sergeant Harsey found himself assigned to the Fighting Foxes squadron during Lord Gral's massive invasion of the Simmaron Woods, he had served the King's Patrol for thirty-eight years—longer than many patrollers lived, let alone served. His massive frame, thick beard showing considerable gray, and bear-like presence remained as intimidating as ever, while his tactical experience and understanding of goblin warfare made him one of the most valuable sergeants in the Hall. The return of Jerrick Bur, now appointed as squadron captain after his role in defeating the witch Saress, represented an unexpected but welcome reunion. Gareth's immediate recognition of his former comrade and his shouted announcement bringing the squadron to attention demonstrated both the discipline he maintained in his squads and his genuine respect for Jerrick's achievements.
The battles that followed during the goblin invasion called upon every lesson Gareth had learned over his decades of service. Leading his squads through the ambush at Potter's Grove, coordinating the complex maneuvers required to trap and destroy the goblin force, working seamlessly with Jerrick despite years of separation—all reflected the professional excellence that justified his decades of stubborn persistence in a calling that had cost him everything else he might have had in life. When he shouted defiance at the trapped haurek warriors from across the gorge, offering them quick death if they lowered their shields, it was vintage Harsey—blunt, direct, uncompromising, and completely confident in the capabilities of the patrollers under his command.
The desperate race to Holden Bridge, fighting alongside Jerrick to scout the goblin ambush and then leading his squads in the brutal melee that broke the enemy trap, demonstrated why Sergeant Harsey had survived when so many others had fallen over the years. His tactical judgment, his ability to maintain unit cohesion during chaotic fighting, and his sheer stubborn refusal to accept defeat combined to make him exactly the kind of sergeant that patroller squadrons needed when facing overwhelming odds. The sight of him and his squads giving the goblins hell at the far side of the bridge, as witnessed by Jerrick, embodied everything the King's Patrol stood for—ordinary men elevated through training, experience, and unwavering determination into extraordinary defenders of civilization's frontier.
Sergeant Gareth "Hard-arsey" Harsey never returned to Woodfell after leaving in Year 501, though he occasionally received letters from his family through the Hall's communication networks. His father Magnus passed away in Year 523, leaving the family's timber operation to Willem, while brother Tomlin had established his own successful forestry business in a different part of the Dormont Forest. The letters suggested no bitterness about Gareth's choice, only quiet acknowledgment that he had found his calling even if it had taken him far from family tradition. Gareth kept these letters in his footlocker at the Hall, rarely reading them but never discarding them—tangible connections to a life he had chosen to leave behind in pursuit of something he still couldn't quite articulate but had never regretted serving.
Now, in Year 539, as one of the most experienced sergeants at Simmaron Hall, Gareth Harsey represented the living embodiment of the King's Patrol's values and traditions. His nickname, once a mockery of his failures, had become a badge of honor reflecting three and a half decades of stubborn service, countless battles survived, and generations of patrollers trained to standards that saved their lives. The bear-like sergeant with his massive shoulders, thick beard, and twin axes remained a fixture at the Hall—training recruits with demanding standards, leading patrols with veteran competence, and maintaining the constant vigilance required to keep the frontier secure. He had left Woodfell seeking service in a higher capacity than providing timber for Brighton's shipyards, and though his path had been harder than he could have imagined during those youthful dreams, Sergeant Harsey had indeed found exactly what he was searching for among the ancient oaks of the Simmaron Woods.
FIRST APPEARANCE
Gareth first appears in The Hall of the Wood.
