Benger is a self-described farm boy with a sword. He was initially attracted to Emlyn but quickly put off by her intensity and her drive. Benger’s happy to be Emlyn’s friend. Benger’s the oldest of seven boys. Benger’s always been the one setting the example for his younger brothers. He’s also frequently be their referee in the inevitable squabbles and rivalries. Gods help any outsider though, because when you mess with one Bevis, you get all of them.

Growing up was laughter, inside jokes, camaraderie, and fun with his younger siblings. The house is full of constant action, debates, and occasionally a few of Mama Bevis’ things have been broken.

Benger stands there, watching Emlyn, with the kind of posture that suggests either military discipline or a spine carved from principle.  Barely out of boyhood but already draped in duty, he wears his brigantine armor like a second skin—steel-studded leather panels polished to a gleam, marked at the shoulders with the sigil of his Order.  His hair is a tousled crown of cornsilk, windblown from the breeze off the ocean. Eyes the clear blue of a cloudless day hold a persistent shine—part zeal, part curiosity, and just enough righteous mischief to make Ember sigh.  Emlyn eyes him, but relaxes when she catches the sigils on his pauldrons and maintains her pace, despite the sand.