A reflection on patience, resilience, responsibility, and heart after twenty two years in Amtgard.
When I was asked to write on my journey to knighthood for this first issue of The Westmarch Scribe, I fretted over what lessons or wisdom to impart. My history within the game spans 22 years. Over those more than two decades, I’ve called different lands and kingdoms home, I’ve had different personas and heraldries, and I’ve held positions at nearly every level of land and a stint in Kingdom office. I’ve seen many things change and I’ve seen many things stay the same.
The question itself felt like a sort of intangible ocean horizon—or perhaps I was just terrified to write my first column. So I laid the memories out before me, every fragmented bit. I opened my cobweb-covered AmtWiki page, my ORK, my heraldry, and my photo galleries. I combed through them all. I thought about how long I had been in the game, what brought me to my first event, and what ultimately kept me coming back. I considered all the events I’ve attended; the A&S tournaments I’ve participated in, lost, won, and judged; the countless friendships and families that have swelled within our community; the dirges and mourning of community members lost; the times of bountiful generosity and times of cold cruelty.
In the end, I kept coming back to my heraldry: the scallop shell and its ocean-themed motif. In many ways, our game is just as changing and just as constant as the sea. So I decided to try to impart some of the following lessons based on my heraldry, my persona, and the comparisons I keep returning to.
The path to knighthood requires many things: patience, resilience, responsibility, and heart.
PATIENCE
It may be controversial, but while some chase knighthood, I don’t believe you ever should. You can do your best to plan your route, but the tides of Amtgard ebb and flow; they are constantly moving. Monarchy and motivations change as often as the moon, and the moon answers to no one. It’s pulled by forces outside of our control. Chasing leads to expectations, which leads to disappointment. Take a breath, enjoy the view—it will come
RESILIENCE
Both knighthoods that I hold, Flame and Serpent, were shaped as much by the rocks that almost broke me as by the waters I crossed smoothly. Resilience isn’t staying unbroken, for the sea wears down everything in time. Resilience is how we surface. Every wave that wrecks against you also shapes you into something new. There were tournaments where I went under and social dynamics like riptides that pulled me sideways when I meant to go forward. There were storms as well as clear skies. And when I bobbed back to the surface, I was a better swimmer.
RESPONSIBILITY
It is a tide I believe many misjudge the importance of. Knighthood isn’t a shell you collect like a treasure off the beach; it’s a deep current you join that creates outward ripples. Others will follow in your wake whether you meant to leave one or not. New players will watch how you ride out a loss, how you carry a win, and how you treat the one swimming alone past the breakers. It can mean being a lighthouse to offer guidance or a buoy for community spirit when things look bleak.
HEART
Last, heart, because it’s the living current underneath everything else. Skill will get you noticed in the shallows, but heart is what makes people want to swim beside you into the deep. Heart is what makes people want to learn from you—to join you in building a household, a company, or a monarchy team. Heart is what makes people want to call your patch of shoreline home.
If I could leave one thing in the sand for someone just wading in: don’t wait for the Crown’s permission to care about the people and the craft in front of you. The caring is the part that never goes out with the tide.