Sir Thibault was a Knight Errant of Bretonnia, who undertook a perilous quest in search of his brother.
History
Thibault had six brothers and one sister; as such, his family was judged to be relatively small. His eldest brother, Rodrigue, had ridden out, accomplished all sorts of valiant deeds, including slaying the Writhing Wyrm of Rotherham, which had earned him the title Knight of the Realm, his own domain in verdant pasturelands by the River Grismerie, and a smiling blonde-haired wife of impressive assets. The two next oldest brothers had ridden off to prove their worth as Knights Errant, and conquered the hearts of maidens the length and breadth of Bretonnia. Travellers constantly brought back news of the two brothers' adventures, and as the minstrels sang tales of their exploits, Thibault would watch the proud faces of his parents with a sinking heart.
And then there was Girauld, Thibault's older by a year. With his curling fair hair, his good looks, his skill at arms and his personal charisma, he was his parents' golden son. Girauld was gifted with the best weapons, specially made armour, and the best gray colt to be his Warhorse. On the day that Girauld left home, a huge crowd gathered to see him off. Thibault watched his brother spur his prancing horse round in circles, and wondered if he were the only person who wouldn't be sorry to see him go, then felt guilty when he saw the tears running down his mother's face.
A year had passed since Girauld's departure, and Thibault was nearly sixteen himself. Like his brothers before him, on his sixteenth birthday he was expected to face and pass the tests of adulthood and be declared a man. Then, as family tradition dictated, he would ride away from his home a knight Errant, bound not to return until he had earned his spurs as a Knight of the Realm.
In truth, Thibault felt no great desire to go out and stamp his mark on the world. He was not by nature very ambitious, and the fire of combat didn't burn in his veins the way it did for his elder brothers. He was a proficient swordsman, but he viewed combat as a means to an end, rather than an end itself. He took pleasure in hunting, but never wnet out of his way to pick a fight the way other men did, just for the joy of it.
The Quest of Errantry
On the eve of Thibault's birthday, gloom hung over the castle like an invisible shroud. His mother hardly spoke to him and his father tolerated him with a cold politeness. The only person who treated him like a human being was his sister, Malfleur, who was uncannily perceptive for a girl of her age.
Thibault spent the night kneeling on the cold stone floor of the castle Chapel, praying to the Lady for guidance. Inspiration struck him as the light of the rising sun shone through the stained glass window, bathing the altar before him in multicoloured light. He knew clearly what he had to do.
The day passed in a blur of activity, during which time Thibault passed all the ritual tests set for him, and proved himself worthy to carry the arms and armour of a knight Errant. The final part of the ceremony was for the young knight to publicly declare the object and purpose of his quest. Thibault strode up to his parents, removed his helmet and saluted his father. His mother, he noticed, wouldn't look him in the eye. He then announced, that for the honour of the Lady, the King and his family, his quest would be to search for his brother Girauld - to bring him back home, if he was still alive, or, if he was dead, to avenge him. Thibault swore this on his sword and his honour.
As he guessed, his statement caused no small amount of commotion. His mother rushed off crying, his father just glared at him, and all the servants started whispering to each other.
Thibault let as soon as he could gather his possessions together - some battered armour, a plain but serviceable sword, and the only horse his father was prepared to let him have, a beast so bad tempered the grooms were going to kill it for meat in the Autumn. It was raining, and no-one could be bothered to see him off except his sister, who seemed quite cheerful considering. She pressed a cloth-wrapped bundle into Thibault's arms, and bade him to take it, before telling him to ride to Melys Gau. She blew him a kiss, and waved goodbye as he rode through the castle gate into the great outside world.
When he was finally out of sight of his father's castle, Thibault stopped his horse and unwrapped his sister's present. it was a sword like no other he had ever seen. He had never heard of such a thing, nad it must have been worth a king's ransom. Despite the damp chill of the day, the gold and pearl hilt felt warm to his touch, and when he swung the sword around, delicate runes along the blade sparkled in the air. Feeling more cheerful, Thibault strapped on the sword, and rode down the road to meet his destiny.
Thibault could not have known that his sister was a Damsel in the making. She knew that Girauld's vanity had driven him to his doom like a moth to a candle, and wasn't yet skilled enough in the magical arts to tell whether Thibault would succeed in his quest. The sorceress part of her soul cared nothing for her family, but the part of her that was a little girl of six summers hoped that he would, because he was a far better person than any of his brothers... and because of the way he tussled her hair when he teased her.