By the grace of all that is good in this world, we live in a time of peace. For many generations now, no man, woman or child has ever had to know the horrors of war that our ancestors had to endure. And yet, in spite of this, troubles do rise up throughout the Green Lands from time to time. The professional armies of the realm, from the esteemed royal guard to the local garrisons of other cities, are always on-hand to protect and serve whenever necessary. But, per royal decrees from many years ago, such forces are to be kept within the boundaries of major population areas, for defence.

As such, many of the areas of the countryside, as well as the less civilized places of our domains, are left virtually unguarded. Or, at least, they would be, if it was not for the courageous efforts of an elite order of warriors, known as the Rangers. Having existed for many centuries, the group was founded by Solaris the sixth, who recognised that there were some areas of protection that simply could not be accomplished with regular armoured troops. As such, he established a separate training regimen, hoping to craft a new type of soldier.

And so he did. But these fighters of our realm do not engage in pitched battles, nor stand guard atop battlements. Rather, they set out, lightly armoured, if at all, and journey forth. Their strengths are in speed and stealth, and their task is to live, often for months on end, in the wild places of our world. In the forests, in the mountains, and other places where few would seek to tread. And their goal is clear, to ensure the wellbeing of the civilians of the Green Lands by engaging darker forces before they become a true threat.

Bandits and brigands, even dangerous beasts that seek to venture into our realm. All of these things and more serve as the enemies of the Rangers. The favoured weapons of these fighters? Usually, it is the bow, allowing them to deal with their adversaries at a great distance, which, in many ways, is very symbolic of their role, thwarting trouble before it gets too close.

The organisation of this group is also quite unlike that of a regular army. For one thing, they are far less numerous. Records are difficult to come by for those not involved in the military, but most reckonings place their number at usually no greater than a hundred men and women at any one time. They also swear featly to no captain or general, but to their grand master. The current master, a veteran Ranger by the name of Spitfire, resides in Canterlot, like all her predecessors, receiving and sending out messages to and from her Rangers in the field, often by way of carrier birds. Sometimes, the grand master will go out into the field themselves for more dangerous threats, but, as said before, these times of peace have often meant that there has been little need to do so.

But the Rangers are, and indeed always have been, scattered throughout our lands. Often working alone, they may work for a full year before ever encountering another of their kind. For so great is the territory that a single Ranger is intended to patrol, that only the most devoted are even considered worthy of the position.

Theirs is not a life of glory or heroism, for few will ever make contact with regular civilians, lest they consider them the suspicious sort. Theirs is simply a life of devotion to the realm. A life ensuring that, by their arrows, those who dwell in Canterlot and elsewhere will, now and forever more, continue to know the joys of peace.

May the Light always guide them in this noble task.