Markgraf Manfred von Rechtshausen
The Markgraf can best be described as an old lion. He's a fit, if rather bulky, early fiftysomething now, but once upon a time he was a dashing adventurer and travelled the world slaying Orcs and Beastmen. While violent adventure was one part of his life, romantic adventure was the other. Always driving him on as he battled his foes was the thought of how a damsel's eyes would shine with wonder as he told his story later. There's more than a touch of the Bretonnian in him and, indeed, he knows the country well and speaks the language fluently.
The adventures continued, in a different way, after he was married. She was the love of his life, catching him with the sparkle of ironic amusement rather than awe that greeted his tales. As a responsible husband, the Markgraf settled down somewhat, taking over military commands in the Imperial army. Fighting now for his wife and his Emperor rather than himself, he was more fulfilled than he had ever been. Only the lack of children disturbed his happiness.
But his wife is now dead ten years and the Markgraf has allowed himself to go a little to seed. He accepted an obscure border post with contentment, especially because it was so close to Bretonnia where he could have easy access to his beloved Bretonnian wine. But the old adventurer and leader of men is only sleeping within and the paws of an old lion still strike harder than most.
The Markgraf's highest priority is taking care of his men. He doesn't shy from sending them into battle (he knows that death is the price of this lifestyle, as do they), but he does believe that it's his duty to take care of them in return. He's a devout Sigmarite in his own quiet way, but strongly believes that the best worship is done in one's actions rather than attending services or mouthing platitudes to the sky. He's known enough hypocritical priests to be wary of them.