The Medieval Job You’d Totally Crush, Based on Your Myers and Briggs Personality Type

Forget resumes. Forget LinkedIn endorsements. If you were tossed into a medieval kingdom with nothing but your personality type and a decent pair of boots, what would your destiny be?
Would you lead armies? Mend souls? Brew sketchy elixirs that may or may not explode?

I’ve assigned each of the 16 types their most fitting medieval role. Prepare to be flattered. Or mildly roasted.

Take Truity’s free TypeFinder® personality test to discover your Myers and Briggs personality type, then read on!

ISFJ – The Apothecary

You’re the person every medieval village quietly worships, the one standing between “mild headache” and “death by mysterious swamp fever.” 

As an apothecary, you memorize herbs, concoct weird-smelling potions and fix everyone's bad life choices with a mixture of expertise, patience, and a dead-eyed stare that says, “Yes, Martha, I did warn you not to lick the mushrooms.”

ISFJs in this role would be quietly heroic: no songs, no statues—just people surviving winter because you exist. Also, let's be honest: organizing shelves of dried lizard tails and frog guts? Low-key satisfying.

ESFJ – The Innkeeper

You run the social engine of the whole medieval town, and everyone knows it.

The inn isn’t just where people eat questionable stew and pass out on straw beds—it’s where alliances are made, romances are ruined and drunk knights cry about their dads. And who’s there, managing the chaos with a firm but loving grip? You. The ESFJ. You remember names. You remember grudges. You know that Sir Edmund the Slightly Damp can't have mead because he gets weepy.

You create warmth and community with one hand. And with the other, you drag people out by their tunics when they start a brawl near the good crockery. You’re the backbone of the whole operation, and you do it all with a smile that says, “Tip me, or I tell your wife about last Tuesday.”

ISFP – The Falconer

If you’ve ever wanted a literal metaphor for your soul, try standing on a windy cliff with a trained hawk on your arm.

Being a falconer means bonding with a wild animal without accidentally turning it into a psychotic murder-bird, and you, my dear ISFP, are built for it. My daughter is an ISFP and she’s wanted to be a falconer since I read her “My Side of the Mountain” at age six. ISFPs are built for connection with animals, particularly ones that can hurtle through the sky faster than any other animal on earth.

You have the patience, the intuition, and the low-key “leave me alone unless you want something beautiful and vaguely rebellious to happen” energy that falconry demands. Other villagers are busy making barrels or selling carrots. You’re training apex predators for sport. Respect.

ESFP – The Tavern Keeper

If medieval towns had Yelp reviews, yours would be five stars with a warning label: “Fun. Loud. May accidentally start a revolution.”

As an ESFP tavern keeper, you’re the life of the village—the hype squad, the party planner, the unofficial therapist who accepts payment in mead and bad decisions. You don’t just serve drinks; you curate experiences. Today it's a drinking contest. Tomorrow it's spontaneous lute karaoke.

Some serious knight might stomp in looking for solemn brooding, but five minutes in your tavern and he’s arm-wrestling a bard and questioning his entire personality. You’re a master of vibes, chaos and infectious laughter. And when a bar fight inevitably breaks out? You’re either swinging a chair or hyping the crowd. No in-between.

ISTP – The Blacksmith

You wake up. You hammer hot metal into swords. You fix a plow. You intimidate an entire tavern into paying their tabs without speaking a word.

Blacksmiths are the undisputed badasses of the medieval workforce, and ISTPs fit this energy like a gauntlet. You don’t waste time over-explaining why you’re the best—you just build things that survive wars, weather and idiots who don't know how to use them. And this isn’t hypothetical—I literally know two ISTPs who blacksmith for fun. As in, voluntarily heating up metal and smashing it with hammers because it’s relaxing.

ISTPs don’t want a group project, a meeting or your feedback. They want fire, tools and zero supervision. If something can be forged, repaired or turned into a quiet power move, you’re already three steps ahead. Bonus: you smell faintly of smoke and steel, which is basically cologne for people who can kill a bear with a wrench.

ESTP – The Knight

You weren’t born to sit quietly spinning wool or staring at a ledger until you die of boredom. You were born to charge at full speed toward problems wearing 50 pounds of metal and no fear.

As a medieval knight, you’re everything a bard would sing about, ESTP—bold, cocky, slightly insane but annoyingly effective. You love the thrill, the honor, the part where you get to smash things legally.

And you secretly enjoy the theatrics: dramatic exits, winning duels in front of a crowd, removing your helmet like a shampoo commercial.

ISTJ – The Scribe

Somebody has to write things down correctly so civilization doesn’t fall apart into a bunch of drunken rumors and broken contracts.

Enter the ISTJ scribe. You sit there with your quill and ink, silently judging everyone's spelling mistakes while preserving laws, deeds and treaties so people don’t accidentally marry the wrong cousin. It’s tedious. It’s repetitive. But with candlelight and peaceful isolation, it’s also your natural habitat.

You find weird satisfaction in perfectly straight margins, historically accurate phrasing, and the unspoken power of knowing exactly what some idiot agreed to three years ago when he was half in his cups. You're the reason kingdoms don't collapse daily. Nobody says thank you, but deep down? They know.

ESTJ – The Captain of the Guard

You don't ask for respect. You demand it with a look that could curdle milk.

As Captain of the Guard, you run the tightest, meanest, least-fun-but-most-efficient operation in the city. Your soldiers either shape up or wish they had. You're the one mapping patrol routes, setting curfews, barking orders and quietly wondering why no one else can seem to grasp “basic competence” as a concept.  The kingdom sleeps safely at night because you, ESTJ, scare every potential criminal into considering a different career path—like “wandering monk” or “professional coward.”

Your motto: “If it’s not nailed down, guard it. If it is nailed down, check anyway.”

INFP – The Storyteller

With the gift of your imagination, you can turn a simple story about a lost knight into an epic about love, betrayal, destiny and facing your inner demons.

Some people might think your job is trivial. But really, you’re dragging people into entire universes they didn’t ask for but suddenly desperately need. Villagers show up thinking they’re getting a little entertainment. They leave wondering if they need to rethink their entire view of morality.

For you, INFP, it’s not just about making up entertaining tales. You want to forge emotional weapons. You slip past defenses with a well-placed metaphor, blindside them with a plot twist, and leave them sniffling into their mead while pretending it’s just allergies. Some of your tales are funny. Some are heartbreakers. Some are so weird and raw that people don’t even know why they feel punched in the soul—they just do. (You're welcome.)

Sure, the local bard might be louder, and the royal historian might get more official scrolls, but you're the one people remember. You're the ghost in their dreams, the whisper at the back of their minds, the reason they stare a little too long at the stars when they think nobody's looking. Storytelling isn’t a performance for you. It’s a calling. And whether they admit it or not, everyone needs what you’re carrying.

INFJ – The Alchemist

You didn’t pick “normal” hobbies like, I don’t know, farming turnips. You picked turning lead into gold and unlocking the secrets of the universe.

As a medieval alchemist, you're the person who sees a messy, chaotic world and says, “Yeah, but what if we figured out the cosmic blueprint and fixed it?” You spend your days hunched over dusty scrolls, weird glassware and experimental disasters waiting to happen—all in the name of something bigger, purer, transcendent.

Also: you're 100% the type to leave mysterious notes behind that historians later misinterpret as a treasure map. You're welcome, future nerds.

ENFP – The Troubadour

Without you, humanity would have withered into despair long ago. You’re the one lighting up every campfire and castle feast like a human fireworks display.

As a troubadour, you wander from town to town, trading stories, music, gossip and bad jokes for bread and fame. You’re the living embodiment of “why have one life when you could borrow a dozen through song?”

Sure, sometimes you embellish the details. ("The “dragon” was this big!") But that's not lying, it's strategic emotional enhancement. You're not just entertaining people—you're waking them up inside. Also, you're an ENFP. So you’re having the absolute time of your life while doing it.

ENFJ – The Diplomat

You walk into a room full of political landmines and somehow get everyone to hold hands and sing a drinking song before dessert.

As a medieval diplomat, you know exactly when to flatter, when to guilt-trip and when to smile so disarmingly that two warring dukes start apologizing to you for your trouble. You're a strategist, ENFJ, but you do it with charm instead of swords. (Most of the time.)

You’re not playing checkers with relationships, either. You play multi-dimensional soul chess. You read people like open scrolls—tracking micro-expressions, emotional beats and buried motives—and somehow manage to call them toward their better selves without sounding smug (most of the time).  Where others see conflict, you see an opportunity for transformation.
The fate of the kingdom? Yeah. That's basically your Tuesday.

INTJ – The Scholar

You aren’t just a “bookworm”: you’re collecting weapons-grade knowledge while silently judging the rest of humanity for needing pictures.

As a medieval scholar, you disappear into ancient texts like a dragon hoarding scrolls instead of gold. You annihilate with logic so quietly brutal that entire debates retire themselves. Your life is basically one long slow-burn flex: “Oh, you learned how to farm barley? Cute. I just restructured our entire understanding of metaphysics over lunch.”

You don’t seek fame, INTJ, you seek understanding—preferably from a tower, preferably alone and preferably somewhere the local peasants can't interrupt you to ask dumb questions like, "What is a 'paradigm'?"

INTP – The Engineer

You don’t want to rule the world; you want to build something so complicated and clever that nobody else even knows how it works, but they’re too scared to admit it.
As a medieval engineer, you’re inventing siege weapons, weird water systems and possibly a trebuchet just because you could. Sure, some of your experiments explode. (Learning!) Sure, you explain things in terrifying technical jargon nobody asked for. (Communication!) But without your special branch of INTP engineering, the whole medieval infrastructure would still be “uhh...throw rocks harder?”

You’re chaos in blueprint form. And deep down, you know that's glorious.

ENTJ – The King's Chancellor

You're the real power behind the throne, and frankly, everyone knows it.

The king gets the credit. You get things done. As the Chancellor, you’re writing laws, managing wars, balancing finances and occasionally saving the realm from complete self-destruction while sipping your third cup of aggressively caffeinated wine.

You don’t have time for incompetence, sloppiness or people who answer rhetorical questions out loud, ENTJ. You are efficiency incarnate, and the only reason the kingdom hasn't collapsed into a flaming heap of bad decisions is because you’re out here playing 4D chess while everyone else is still eating paste. Bend the knee or get out of the way.

ENTP – The Merchant

You’re not here to settle down. You’re here to dominate every marketplace like it’s a gladiator pit, smiling the whole time.

As a medieval merchant, you’re flipping spices, silk, ideas and probably a few “totally real magical relics” if the price is right. You love the deal, the chase, the gamble. Contracts? Negotiable. Rules? More like strong suggestions. You somehow know exactly what people want before they know they want it—and then you upsell them a bonus goat just because you can.

You’re an empire in motion, ENTP. And half the kingdom lowkey hates you for it, but the other half is asking if you're hiring.

What Do You Think?

Did I nail your type’s medieval alter ego, or are you sitting there thinking, “Excuse me, I’m an INFP and I would have made an incredible court jester actually”? Drop me your thoughts, share your type. Argue about job placements. Or just tell me what medieval job you would have demanded in protest while dramatically storming out of the tavern.