Lienna Orhneaht

18 _{Born the 17th day of the Pegasus Moon, 1476}

The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus

Commoner - soon to join a minor branch of House Gautier

Minor Crest of Gautier
_{Lienna's Crest grants her the ability to passively reflect a portion of damage dealt to her back at her attacker, making her an unattractive target.}

Monk

Black Magic

Reason & Bow

Heavy Armour & Flying

Blizzard

The far northern reaches of Faerghus have a way of imprinting themselves on the people who live in them; frigid, thorny, and severe. Lienna is no exception. Aptly described as “cold”, Lienna looks out for herself first and without exception - everything and everyone else is secondary. She’s not the person to go seeking compassion, and definitely isn’t the caretaking type, more likely to watch you wither and die than take on any extra burden. Still, she can be bargained with, if something of adequate value is offered in return.

As such, Lienna judges things (and people) by how much they can help or hurt her; the beneficial are kept, and the malignant or burdensome promptly abandoned. Socially, she’s attentive and sharp, willing to say or do whatever she needs to to get what she wants, but not an breath more. A hardened air of bitterness from a life hard-fought is apparent in everything she does, but she has no interest in hashing out the past. At the same time, she sees little value in thinking too hard about the future: to Lienna, what matters most is surviving the here and now, and anything beyond that can be dealt with later.

In the Northern reaches of Gautier territory there sits a small village by the name of Hima, best described as a motley assembly of shacks huddled around a small church right on the border of Faerghus and Sreng. Sandwiched between Srengese aggressors and Gautier defenses, the village felt the full brunt of their endless struggle for territory, often caught up in the crossfire of battles or raided for supplies by Srengese forces. Infertile soil, harsh climate, and continued regional unrest made the battlegrounds of Faerghus and Sreng all but unlivable, but nonetheless Hima stubbornly persisted, its people clinging to their inhospitable birthplace like weeds on a cliffside. It was there, in stubborn Hima, that Lienna was born.

She was an only child, left in her elderly grandmother’s care when she was just days old by a mother who wanted nothing to do with her and a father no one could name. With little money to care for a baby, Lienna’s grandmother, Oma, was forced to pick up whatever extra bit of work her old bones could manage, sewing and mending for pennies to make ends meet. Lienna eagerly helped when she was old enough, picking up odd jobs and hunting small game, and the two of them together managed to get by. There was no time or money for school, but Oma did her best to teach Lienna to read, write, and add numbers together; when the child exceeded her own knowledge, she sent her to the village church to learn from the priest and read the scriptures. It was at that church where, at the age of nine, Lienna first discovered she bore a Crest: the Minor Crest of Gautier.

Lienna was excited at first, told by the Priest that her Crest was a blessing from the Goddess, but to Oma, the news was unwelcome. Having heard the stories of how Crests destroyed lives and ripped families apart, she impressed upon Lienna that she must keep her crest a secret, that the nobility of Faerghus would kill, steal and die to add Crest bearers to their ranks and that if anyone found out about it, she would surely be stolen away. But word of a Crest bearer among the commoners of Hima was bound to get out, no matter how closely guarded the secret; soon enough Lienna heard townspeople talk about it, heard it discussed among the Gautier soldiers who often passed through. A few offers of adoption eventually came in from minor nobles, no doubt eager to claim ownership of her Crest, but Oma always forcibly denied them. Lienna didn’t want to go, anyway; from Oma’s stories, Crests sounded more like a curse than a blessing, and she wouldn’t see her little family broken for anything.

If only such things were within her control.

When Lienna was twelve, Oma started changing, her great age manifesting in ugly ways. It was subtle at first; she’d forget where she left her sewing or trail off in the middle of a sentence, simple mistakes easily attributed to the ravages of time. But her decline was fast, staggeringly so. Soon, she was forced to retire from her little mending business when she could no longer reliably tell the difference between shirts and pants. She began missing meals, and started wandering away from the cabin at all hours of the night, searching for places and people Lienna had never heard of. One evening, Lienna came home to an Oma who didn’t recognize her, speaking of things fifty years past as if they happened just yesterday.

There was nothing for Lienna to do but take up the mantle of caretaker. Within a few months she was transformed from child to parent, her days and nights stretched thin as she scraped together all she could to care for a grandmother who’d forgotten who she was. The townspeople were no help; they were sympathetic at first, but when the true nature of Oma’s condition got out they avoided her like the Imperial plague, thinking her madness was contagious or a divine punishment for some horrible sin. Whatever their reasons, it was quickly apparent to Lienna that without her Oma to turn to, the only person in the world she could rely on was herself.

The worst came when Lienna was fourteen. After being forced to run from a routine village raid, she returned to find her grandmother unharmed, but absolutely hysterical. Lienna was shocked; Oma had long since lost touch with reality, seeing and hearing things that weren’t there and prone to bouts of paranoia, but this episode was the most intense Lienna had ever seen. Oma was inconsolable, howling and screaming for Lienna to get away. Like countless times before, Lienna tried to tell Oma who she was, but Oma was unusually stubborn, insisting that she looked nothing like Lienna and that her granddaughter had been taken away by evil things that had been chasing her. She hurled unimaginable abuse at the so-called “imposter”, screaming horrible things Lienna never thought she’d ever hear pass her Oma’s lips. When Lienna finally managed to calm her down, it was like Oma was asleep with her eyes open, staring blankly and not uttering a word.

She never spoke again.

For Lienna, the years that followed were like living with a corpse she couldn’t bury. She did her best to care for her, sure, but to Lienna, Oma was dead; the body left behind was just an empty husk, a cruel mockery of the wise and vibrant woman she loved so dearly. Alone in the world, she grew bitter and distant, calloused from the pain and grief that shook her every time she looked at Oma’s hollow stare.

Lienna had just come of age when Oma finally passed, and she didn’t pause to mourn her. Instead, Lienna resolved to get as far away from that sad little cabin as she could manage, determined to use whatever methods she could muster not to spend another second shivering in Hima with a belly full of snow. She knew her Crest was her best shot at escaping, and was fully prepared to take advantage of it; Oma would have hated the idea, but the hells would take Lienna before she let a long-dead ghost control her any longer.

After a short stay at the village church and a lot of prodding the Gautier soldiers, Lienna learned of a Gautier Count, the current Margrave’s brother, who was struggling to produce a Crest-bearing heir. Seeing her chance, Lienna got in contact with the Count, who was expectedly welcoming of the chance to absorb another Crest-bearer into his family. Marrying a Count, Lienna reasoned, would solve all of her problems: she’d leave Hima and live in an estate, never to worry about the roof over her head or her next meal ever again. So what if the Count was more than twice her age; marrying him and bearing a few Crest babies seemed a small price to pay for a guaranteed life of comfort.

Still, Lienna was no fool - she wouldn’t agree to lock herself away in a far-flung Gautier keep without insurance. Oma taught her to read and add because she insisted that if she wasn’t educated, she’d be swindled for the rest of her life; this was no exception. Lienna needed to learn more about the world she was entering, understand their politics and make connections of her own lest her new husband or any of his highborn peers try to take advantage of her ignorance. Thus, she agreed to marry the Count under one condition: He would sponsor her education at the Garreg Mach Officers’ Academy. After insisting that he’d keep an eye on her so she wouldn’t take his money and run, the Count agreed, and arranged for Lienna to attend Garreg Mach for the year preceding their marriage. Lienna didn’t care; she’d accept an army of chaperones if it meant getting what she wanted.

Jorah von Riegan

20 _{Born the 20th day of the Harpstring Moon, 1474}

The Leicester Alliance

Heir Apparent of House Riegan

Crest of Riegan
_{Jorah’s Crest gives him an uncanny ability to read people’s emotions, and makes them more receptive to suggestion - that is, until they realize what he’s doing.}

Lord

Bow

Bow & Riding

Reason & Authority

Perhaps his greatest virtue and flaw all in one, Jorah may be physically incapable of taking anything seriously. He’d call it an asset, being that he doesn't suffer long from heartache or disappointment, and it's nearly impossible to get under his skin. A little too sure of himself, Jorah doesn’t see much beyond the moment, often blind to the consequences of his actions. His impulsivity can often end poorly when his urge to push the envelope overrides his common sense, but he offsets his occasional bad luck with a near-insufferable ‘could have been worse’ attitude. He's laid-back and playful, with a devil-may-care outlook on life and an easy confidence that often strays into cockiness; a born performer and avid show-off, Jorah is generally happiest when all eyes are on him.

Much to his father’s chagrin, Jorah has a nomadic soul, drawn to wander and explore all the world has to offer… although, his more level-headed sister might suggest he's only traveling between fair maidens' beds. As a notorious flirt and a devilish charmer, even Jorah would have to admit that such a theory isn't entirely baseless. Beneath the flippant attitude and flirtatious remarks, however, Jorah is a genuinely kind soul, happy to live and let live without judgement and generally averse to doing harm unless he must.

When Jorah was born, his father, Duke Rodolph von Riegan, rejoiced. Possessing of the Crest of Riegan, Jorah was the first bearer of a Major Crest the family had produced in generations, cementing his spot as heir apparent to House Riegan’s seat among the Five Great Lords and making him a future great contender for influence at the Roundtable. With the issue of inheritance squared away early on in his tenure as Duke, Rodolph could raise his heir and conduct his business as Duke with a weight off his mind—for a few months, anyway.

As it turned out, Jorah grew into Duke Riegan’s biggest headache, a far cry from the responsible, stately heir he was meant to be. As soon as he could walk, he was difficult to keep still; among other antics, he was notorious for running off in the direction of anything that caught his eye, rules or danger be damned. As a child, he turned escaping his handlers into an art form, and his Crest power was apparent from an early age - he had an infuriating talent for getting what he wanted, no matter how strict his caretakers claimed to be.

His teenage years brought no relief; in fact, the only change that seemed to manifest was when he made the transition from chasing mice and butterflies all around Derdriu to chasing comely maidens instead. Knowing how much of a boon his son’s Crest power could be as a negotiator, Duke Riegan began taking Jorah with him on business trips around Fódlan, hoping that seeing him in action would endear the boy to politics and motivate him to take his role as heir more seriously. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect: it gave young Jorah a taste for adventure.

From then on, Jorah was impossible to contain. What used to be an itch to cause trouble around the Roundtable and the Riegan estate expanded to include all of Derdriu and beyond, turning the boy into a bona fide flight risk. Having finally gotten a taste of the world beyond Derdriu, he was desperate for any chance to experience more of it, driven to distraction by stories told by soldiers and merchants with nary a thought spared for his lessons or responsibilities. Hoping to stifle his son’s wanderlust, the Duke responded by barring him from any travel outside of Derdriu; instead, he simply turned Jorah’s birthplace into his prison.

Chafing under his overbearing father but ever mischievous, Jorah still managed to find loopholes in his sentence. In his later teen years, he took to a habit of walking the streets of Derdriu in disguise, using the creative moniker “Torah” to talk to the commoners without the pretense of nobility. Unsurprisingly, one of his absolute favourite haunts (aside from a number of taverns and cat houses) was the Derdriu waterfront, where he spent countless afternoons chatting up salesmen, sellswords and swashbucklers from every corner of the world. Heedless of the danger of being an unprotected noble heir surrounded by foreigners, Jorah thrived in their company, soaking up everything he could squeeze from them about their homelands and their adventures. Still, while sailors’ stories were enough to tide him over, they couldn’t sate him forever; before long, the Aquatic Capital felt more to Jorah like Fódlan’s Fishbowl, where he could gaze out at the entire world parading through the harbour, but never follow them whence they came.

The ever-present tension between Jorah and his father finally came to a head the year Jorah turned twenty, far past the age where he should have started taking his role seriously and still with his head in the clouds. Duke Riegan had long threatened action if Jorah couldn’t get his act together, and Jorah had long resisted him, insisting that his younger sister Delia was more fit than he for the position. After an explosive argument, the Duke finally gave Jorah an ultimatum: he would attend the Officers’ Academy at Garreg Mach and return a fitting heir, or he wouldn’t return at all.

Clarissa von Edmund

18 _{Born the 21st day of the Great Tree Moon, 1477}

Leicester Alliance

Noble: House Edmund

Crest of Maurice (Crest of the Beast)
_{Unbeknownst to her, Clarissa's Crest passively compels honesty from both those she speaks with and herself.}

Monk

White Magic (Sword secondary)

Faith and Authority

Lance and Axe

Heal
Nosferatu

Bold and impulsive, Clarissa Edmund is an aggressively outspoken proponent of her beliefs. The first to disregard the pretense of deliberation, Clarissa refuses empty flattery and circular arguing in favor of constructive criticism advancing her agenda. Her stance on issues is rarely unknown and she operates without the veneer of secrecy her political peers are so well known for. It’s her opinion that transparency is the fundamental value of trust and that only those with ill intention gain anything from secrecy. As such, she throws herself entirely into whatever she considers worthwhile, sure in her steps and steadfast in her convictions, and rarely double guesses her decisions.

Unlike her mother who draws on the serenity of Seiros, Clarissa’s faith only fans the flames of her passion. She speaks glowingly of the establishment anytime the subject comes up, fully committed to the Church’s message of peace, forgiveness, and charity, and is quick to turn against those who speak ill of it. The Alliance’s neutrality with the Church has always bothered her—after all, Fodlan only stayed together thanks to the guidance of Archbishop Rhea—and she fully plans to support an expansion of the Church's influence in the Alliance.

The first born daughter of Beaufort and Odette Edmund, Clarissa Edmund seemed destined to be cut from the same cloth as her father: energetic, loud, and brash even as a baby. She spent her life proving everyone right. She spent her early years at her father’s knee, adopting his love for horseback riding, sailing, and swordplay during their outings and picking up the nuances of Edmund oration in the process. Each evening after lessons, the pair would slip away to Clarissa’s favorite spot in the family estate that overlooked the harbor and would talk about her studies and the world at large over a pot of mint tea.

Her mother however, maintained an incredibly strict lifestyle for Clarissa when she wasn’t with her father. Born with a minor Crest of the Beast, Odette wept when she learned Clarissa inherited a Major Crest. Marianne Edmund’s adoption tainted the family line with the cursed Crest and her influence still shaped how the family handled the Crest three hundred years later. Odette limited her interaction with anyone outside of the core staff and immediate family and immersed Clarissa in Church activity. She believed that only faith and piety could combat the Crest’s malignant effects. She kept the truth of the Crest away from Clarissa as long as she could and it worked for a while.

However, the birth of her younger brother afforded her an opportunity to escape her mother’s limitations. With Beaufort as her ally, Clarissa won independent outings to the Church for a weekly social gathering of children her age with the condition that a trusted family friend, Bishop Jehan, would act as her chaperone. The man had the patience of Saint Cethleann herself and handled her million questions with ease. Her social group consisted mostly of the children of wealthy merchants and she quickly established her reputation as a leader, taking responsibility for the group and their activities. She molded the group in the image of Odette’s charity work and focused primarily on assisting those without money by fixing garments and blankets for free. While she didn’t particularly care for the work, it was something she hadn’t been allowed to do before and she quite liked having friends.

She was content with her life and limited interactions until her 11th year, after the disastrous mock battle between House Gloucester and House Ordelia. Her father explained why the House had lost their seat: The House was on its last legs and survived solely on the support from others in the Alliance. As unfortunate as it was, a House needed to be powerful in its own right to sit at the table. The unease at the decision still festered inside her and unable to find the words to express why, she lashed out at her family, at her father for a horrible decision and at her mother for her absurd restrictions.

A screaming match with her mother revealed the true nature of her Crest. Clarissa fled after that, running to the only place she considered safe anymore and broke down in tears in front of Jehan. It took several long, awkward, and emotional conversations with the Bishop but eventually she found what had been unsettling her about the issue. The curse her family supposedly bore was a punishment for those who had no hand, no voice, in the decision their ancestor made, just like Duke Ordiela’s family had no choice in his decision to murder a fellow Lord. Her questions bordered on heretical, demanding why the Goddess would punish innocents for the acts of others. The bishop came up with an elegant solution: a Major Crest manifesting in her must mean the Goddess has given her the chance to redeem her bloodline. Clarissa clung desperately to that and shortly before her 13th birthday, she stepped out of her turmoil a new person.

Gone was the girl who would quietly accept her fate. Instead, Clarissa Edmund walked out as the heiress apparent of the Margravate of Edmund and she made sure it was known. It caused friction with her mother but Clarissa swept past that with her new found confidence. She reclaimed her social group that had been abandoned at the revelation of her curse, grew it, and began doubling down on her lessons. She accompanied her father to the Roundtable and took notes and developed questions for them to discuss later at their nightly meetings. She even attended a recent Roundtable on her own when he fell ill; she established her reputation quickly when one of them tried to exploit her age and she flew into an impassioned speech on the importance of change and progress and warned against letting hard fought wisdom turn to stagnation. After that she knew her next course of action clearly: Leading the Leicester Alliance. Her father supported her aspirations and enrolled her in Garrag Mach’s Officers Academy with the goal to strengthen the support she’d need to make the claim.

Favorite Food: Two-fish Sauté

Clarissa's Crest power doesn't force people to tell her things. It only keeps them, and her, from lying in a conversation. If a character doesn't want to talk about something, they don't have to or they can tell her that they don't want to talk about it if it does come up.

Auberon Casimir Galatea

18 _{Born the 15th of Blue Sea Moon.}

Holy Kingdom of Faerghus

Noble of House Galatea

Minor Crest of Daphnel
_{Auberon's Crest sporadically imbues his swings with more momentum than would seemingly be possible by mundane means.}

Lord

Axes

Axe, Flying

Bow, Reason

Hotheaded and often rash, Auberon is a force of ego incarnate, with the utmost confidence that his every success is ordained by the Goddess herself, and thus brings glory unto Her name with every act he undertakes. Should he ever fail at something, of course, it is merely because the Goddess chose to teach him an important lesson in order to make him a more perfect servant or subtly create an even better result in the future. This leads to a very reckless nature, though not totally untempered by wisdom; the Goddess helps those who help themselves, after all.

Despite this hubris, Auberon is not one to rise above his station. He believes the Goddess has placed him precisely where he should be, and his whole life has been spent in preparation for vassalage - whether to a count or a king. He gives due deference to his feudal superiors and members of the church, though commoners are usually beneath his notice. He's cordial to them out of a sense of noblesse oblige, but he believes it is their role to serve as much as it his the role of the aristocracy to justly rule. This does not extend to those rare commoners who are lucky enough to bear a Crest, whose holy blood Auberon takes as a sign of the Goddess' favor and thus he regards them as he would any other noble.

Born the second son of two knights from a cadet branch of House Galatea, Auberon seemed a strong candidate to follow in their footsteps in one of the knightly orders of Faerghus rather than inherit the estate. When his Crest became apparent, however, the main branch immediately took an interest in the boy, as the House had not produced a Crestbearing heir. While they were hesitant to fully commit to Auberon's adoption in hopes that Count Galatea may yet produce a child holding a more valuable Major Crest, lessons on statecraft and stewardship were stressed on Auberon alongside the courtly etiquette and chivalric conduct typical of a young noble's education in the event he should eventually be chosen as the Count's successor nevertheless.

He took to combat lessons as swimmingly as any Crestbearing son of Faerghus would, and the innate physical advantages of his Crest led him to develop an ego quite quickly. His mother schooled him on tactics she reserved from her time as a pegasus knight, and his father instructed him briefly in the lance before passing him off to a more dedicated combat instructor. Auberon's older brother rarely stood a chance in their sparing, despite being two years his elder, and his tutors were often caught off-guard by the boy's intensity in practice, if not truly threatened. Seeking to curb any foolhardy arrogance in their son, his parents began introducing him to members of the Church in hopes that faith and scripture would humble the boy. The opposite occurred. Inspired by tales of the Ten Elites and their holy blood, Auberon came to understand himself not as special by his own merits, but by the benevolence of the Goddess. Now convinced of his importance in the divine sphere as well as the mortal, the young squire threw himself into his training with renewed vigor, aiming to be worthy of his role as the Goddess' champion like Daphnel before him.

It was also around this time that the whispers among the court became too loud for Auberon to miss. Auberon was still the sole Crestbearer of his generation, and some among the Galatea nobility had already given up on the Count choosing a different heir. The young teen could often pick them out easily - they were a little bit more pleasant now, with manipulations behind every word of flattery and unrealized ambitions spun in every turn of phrase. Perhaps a courtier would promise to convince the Count to stop deliberating on Auberon's adoption for a mere favor in the future, perhaps another simply wanted to brown-nose with his future liege. Such intrigue didn't interest Auberon - the Goddess would place him where he was meant to be regardless; anxiety was a trait reserved for faithless men and cowardly sinners.

When they learned Auberon would be attending the Officers Academy with his enrollment costs to be covered by the Count himself, Auberon's proponents, and even some detractors, seemed assured that he would be chosen for rulership of County Galatea swiftly after. But even then, no official decision was made. This served as an endless source of frustration to those whose power plays were banking on such an event, though Auberon remained unaffected by noble politics as ever. If anything, he was more excited to witness Garreg Mach and the seat of the Church in person than he was to hold any titles or power.

Rudolf von Bergliez

17 _{Born the 7th of Ethereal Moon.}

Adrestian Empire

Noble of House Bergliez

Major Crest of Noa
_{Rudolf's Crest imposes a subtle compulsion on observers to ignore him. He's not invisible, just easier to gloss over, especially for those that aren't specifically looking for him.}

Monk

Dark Magic

Reason, Faith

Brawl, Heavy Armor

Miasma Δ, Heal, Swarm Z

A scion of House Bergliez must be the pinnacle of battlefield achievement, unparalleled in bravery and skill; a warrior so powerful that no man, army, or monster may meet him in combat and prevail. Rudolf von Bergliez is none of these things. He's diminutive, easily discouraged, and wants nothing more than to suffer a mildly debilitating injury that renders him unable to ever fight again, but won't significantly hinder his day-to-day life. At least then he could abdicate his title in shame and wouldn't jeopardize the entire Empire with the aftermath of his failures. He'd be useless in any position in the Ministry of Military Affairs, let alone the battlefield; all of his alleged magical talent is an overrated farce that will surely be exposed any day now; and no, he doesn't know what 'impostor syndrome' means, so quit saying it.

Rudolf is generally incapable of internalizing praise or positive feedback. He believes any commentary on his ability comes from mindless platitude and supernatural mental influence, and that if people would only pay attention to him, they'd see he's an inept failure unworthy to bear his hereditary honors. Glaring self-esteem issues aside, he's typically polite and inoffensive, though he can be quite forward at times since his subtle hints often go unnoticed by others. He does genuinely enjoy attention, though he's wary of actively drawing it to himself as he thinks it would inevitably lead to his exposure as a fraud. Naturally, Rudolf's a bit of a cynic, though he's notably more optimistic about circumstances that don't involve his input in any way.

It was deemed a testament to the strength of House Bergliez's blood and the favor of the Goddess that three of the Count's five children bore Crests. Such hubris must surely have been at fault when the Count's firstborn son grew up sickly and unsuited to the warfare in which his House was accustomed. A rational man would have named another child heir to the County, but Count Bergliez was never a man who reconsidered his choices once they had been made. Rudolf, much like the other Bergliez children, was trained in the arts of combat alongside a typical young noble's education. Rudolf rarely excelled in such activities, and was met with little encouragement even when he did accomplish something. His siblings received genuine, targetted compliments, but his achievements were met with polite ambiguity, and only if he explicitly asked. Only feats with tangible, physical results were met with anything different, usually surprise. Clearly, none of the other praise was sincere; they hadn't noticed a thing, overshadowed as he was by his siblings' prowess. Rudolf came to believe that he wasn't receiving attention because there was nothing noteworthy about him; he was only commended out of pity and respect for his position as the next count. Once he had a better grasp on how his ability worked, Rudolf was all but assured of this. How could he be congratulated when he was the opposite of everything the House stood for? He was no peerless soldier, his silhouette didn't cut an imposing inspiration to lesser men against the horizon; he was weak and frail and would perish the moment he engaged the enemy. The Imperial Army demanded not just a competent leader, but a figurehead that rallied and inspired levied soldier and distinguished knight alike. No pitiful weakling whose very existence was an afterthought to those that gazed upon him would do. The Ministry of Military Affairs should be in the hands of someone strong like his brother, or cunning like his sister, someone that wouldn't fail their nation in a time of strife.

Still, Count Bergliez refused to budge. If Rudolf couldn't master a weapon, he'd just have to be given alternative methods of attack. Favors were called in and practitioners of the dark arts from some of the Empire's most elite magic corps were hired as tutors for the boy. If the Count could not raise a master warrior to lead the front lines, he would raise a sorcerer-general to rain destruction from behind them. The boy took to the education swimmingly, finding it far more agreeable to his physique than swordplay. Unfortunately, Rudolf didn't quite see it that way. Unused to his tutors' genuine evaluation of his progress and the ease at which magical instruction came to him, he assumed he'd fluked somehow and passed himself off as some sort of magical prodigy. His Crest concealed his shortcomings from his instructors' scrutiny for now, but one day, surely, he'd reach the end of his luck and be exposed as a third-rate caster with fourth-rate spells. Nevertheless, Rudolf persevered in his studies, if only to try and live up to the lie everyone believed in. The genuine attention he was receiving was something he'd sorely lacked for most of his childhood, even if it was misguided and built on deceit. Hopefully once the truth came out, his father would see what a horrible person he was and pass him over for inheritance.

Unfortunately, it never came to pass. The plague took Rudolf's father and two of his siblings, one of whom was another Crestbearer. Quite frankly, the boy couldn't help but think his family would've been better off if he'd been one of the victims instead. Worse, no one had the nerve to contradict a dead man's wishes and dispute Rudolf's claim to the title. Any protests on his part were met with deaf ears and false reassurances that he would live up to the expectations set before him. His mother took over as Countess regent due to Rudolf's age, but in the interim, he was to be sent to Garreg Mach in preparation to inherit County Bergliez. The boy accepted, both because he had been given no other options and because such a prestigious institution would doubtlessly expose him as a fool unworthy to be count, and his family would have to reconsider their choice in heir.

Kellen Milo Fraldarius

17 _{Born the 8th of Harpstring Moon.}

Holy Kingdom of Faerghus

Noble of House Fraldarius

Minor Crest of Fraldarius
_{Kellen’s crest will, on occasion, allow him to temporarily ignore injuries he sustains. The pain doesn’t go away, it’s merely delayed.}

Myrmidon

Swords

Sword, Axe

Faith, Flying, Riding

Kellen is a mostly-pleasant boy, who does not hold himself in particularly high-esteem. He’s quick to try and mediate conflicts, and as the youngest sibling of four, is used to being pushed around by those older than him. He is rather irreverent and does not see much point in respecting old traditions, though his stance on the matter is not strong enough for him to take any sort of real action to upend them.

However, in combat or otherwise under pressure, Kellen is rather quick to withdraw and hone in the task at hand. Any semblance of laisser-faire is lost, and there’s little attempt to pretend otherwise. While at times this a great tool, at others it manifests itself as an anxiety that does little but burn Kellen out. Any situation with the potential for injury contributes greatly to Kellen’s anxiety.

Kellen was born the youngest of 4 siblings. His eldest sister, Rhiannon, was identified at a young age to possess a major crest of Fraldarius. While Kellen was rarely privy to it, this would lead to a great deal of strife between his parents and his uncles and aunts, who had yet to bear any children with crests.

For the rest of this siblings, free from the subterfuge and family intrigue, Rhiannon’s crest lent them a great deal of freedom. The three crestless children, not aware of the context of such a gift, viewed it as more of a punishment than a boon. After all, Rhiannon spent days training, learning, and generally following their parents’ orders while the three younger children were able to play, explore, and, when forced to, learn under the far less-watchful eye of their tutor.

At the age of eight, Kellen was dropped out of a window by his siblings who got too excited while holding onto his legs. After plummeting to the ground, he found himself unable to move his arm. Being all of 8 and having far more pressing maters to attend to, the kids resumed their games. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes had passed that a wave of pain ran through him that left him sobbing for the next several hours as the healers went about setting the injury.

Other similar incidents occurred. Kellen, in his foolishness, would find himself injured in some way or another, and while most of the time he would immediately feel pain, there would be moments where it would take minutes, sometimes close to an hour, for that horrible feeling to finally reach his brain. These occurrences dwindled as Kellen grew and became a bit more risk-averse. But after a practice blade clipped his ear – nearly taking a piece with it –, his father realized that his family had two crest-bearers.

Kellen felt a sense of dread as his father explained the situation to him. He had had suspicions that something wasn’t quite right, but his brief attempts at learning had given him the impression that two crest-bearers in a family was a rare occurrence. More than that though, he had no wish to assume a life similar to his eldest sister’s, whom he had rarely seen since she had gone to Garreg Mach some years previous.

That’s why he was thrilled when his father presented him with a solution. Kellen could head off to support his uncle and troops in defending the Kingdom against incursions from Sreng, something Kellen had begged for and been denied, with his parents insisting that such a mission would be too dangerous.

There was one condition to his wish being granted, however. Kellen would, under no circumstances, inform anyone beyond his Father about the revelation he possessed a crest. This too, was a great victory for Kellen, who had no wish to be groomed and controlled the way his sister was.

The campaign in Gautier territory was not particularly exciting, with Kellen’s uncle frequently expressing his concern and curiosity that his brother would send a sixteen-year-old boy into such unforgiving conditions. Kellen quickly adapted to the new circumstances, which rarely saw him on the frontline, despite his objections. He mostly served as an aide to his uncle, helping transport supplies and manage the camp.

However, Kellen’s newfound realization of his crest and its power left him restless. It wasn’t long before he donned a soldier’s garb and joined the line as troops pushed to rout some bandits from a small town. While passing through the town to clear the scant homes, Kellen found himself unable to stand. When he looked down, he saw a nasty gash that he had sustained during the fight and failed to notice. While he would survive this wound, medics at the camp were alarmed by how much blood had been lost. His uncle, after much chiding, would later ascribe the incident to adrenaline, but Kellen knew otherwise. The revelation that he had sustained a blow that could have cost him his life without realizing it quickly changed his tune, and after the incident he was content to stay in the camp and away from the fray.

In the year that followed, Kellen would communicate with his family rarely, mostly to re-affirm his safety and assure them that he was greatly enjoying the new adventure. He often-considered telling his mother about his crest, but never did so, remembering the deal he had struck with his father. The one he never heard from was Rhiannon, who his other siblings insisted they had not seen since he had left.

The last message he received was from his Father. It stated, in plain language, that he had been enrolled at Garreg Mach and would be expected to attend in the coming year. Kellen wrote back several times insisting he would not be attending, but he never received a response. His uncle received a similar letter, and despite many heated arguments, Kellen found he could make no headway. His uncle sent him off shortly thereafter, with a small retinue of troops who were just as surprised as he was that he would be attending the academy.

Kayden Caladwarden Hresvelg

21

Adrestian Empire

The noblest

Crest of Seiros: Legend has it that Saint Seiros bore this Crest and passed it down through House Hresvelg. Occasionally makes his voice compelling towards those he speaks to, gently urging them to his point of view.

Lord

Sword

Sword & Authority

Faith & Flying

A man of two worlds, prince Kayden Hresvelg both loves and hates being the eponymous prince of the Andrestian Empire. The pomp and schedule? He could do without. The Andrestian Empire is a kingdom on the decline if his family is any indication, and he would certainly choose any other father if he could. However, he has royal blood with princely looks, a sharp mind, and a swordsman's hands. He was born to be who he is. That, and of course there are perks to being an aristocrat in social settings.

Kayden enjoys making friends both high and low, and though he is no stranger to having friends at court, he finds commoners to be far more relatable and funny than the ever pompous nobles that have to simp or rival him. New things excite him, adventure being an ever present delight he wishes to explore. He's respectful and learned of his country's history, and he's proud of his kingdom even if he believes it in disarray and he has a poor opinion of his family.

Despite the womanizing, the gallivanting, and the love of danger, he is actually a kind soul. He's had far too much grief in his life and seen far too many other princely assholes to ever try and lose his morality because of his station, or any reason for that matter. He finds the new thrills are more of a shield so he cannot dwell too much on the sad state of things, and though he does enjoy reading a good book or spending quiet moments of reflection and melancholy, ask him to join you in a dangerous expedition and he'll volunteer to lead it!

Born in utter squalor, Kayden was poor and destitute, meant for his name to disappear into the annals of history forever. But that's a different Kayden. We're here to speak about the fabulous, gorgeous, unrelentingly handsome Kayden of the Hresvelg dynasty, last son of the King and notable rebel in all things royal. Or at least, that's how he'd like to think of himself.

Kayden Hresvelg of House Hrelsveg was the fourth son to be born to the King and Queen, so despite his pedigree, for most of his childhood he felt very unimportant. He play-fought with his siblings often and decided he wanted to be the protector of the throne, a royal knight of the realm! He was taught to be well read and learned in lore, though he never felt he was as smart or talented as his siblings. Of course, that has to be shattered when the plague swept into the Andrestian Empire, including the Imperial palace. Kayden was the second to get sick, though he survived unlike most of his family. Even their best doctors couldn't keep five of his siblings from death, his mother bed-ridden, and further complications in his family arising.

Kayden was now the sole heir to the throne. The hard times coupled with Kayden being an unwilling heir put a strain on his relationship with his father. Not to mention the new mistress his father took, making him a neglectful husband to Kayden's mother, at least in Kayden's eyes. The prince would often travel around the capital, making friends with delinquents and learning swordplay in his spare time, finding solace in his exploits to keep himself busy. Though he was taught matters of state, he retained the stories of old wars and heroic quests far more easily from his father's teachers.

By Kayden's twenty first birthday, his father believed he needed to be taught both discipline and the sword in a more controlled manner, and so sent him off to the Officer's Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery. Kayden surprisingly agreed wholeheartedly, wanting some new scenery and wishing more than anything to distance himself from his father. His only regret was leaving his mother, as her only company was the servants and infrequent visits from the King.

Albrecht von Varley

17 _{Born the 5th of Blue Sea Moon}

Adrestian Empire

Noble of House Varley

Crest of Lamine
_{Albrecht's crest bestows him with supernaturally good fortune, significantly increasing the likelihood of positive outcomes in tasks he undertakes while reducing the severity of negative outcomes.}

Soldier

Sword

Swords, Faith

Bows, Reason

Albrecht strives to be the very definition of what a young nobleman is meant to be; for much of his life, he has lived a blessed existence, something he attributes to the Goddess' favor, and he attempts to repay this favor by conducting himself in a way which honors her benevolence. He is kind to both his betters and his lessers, patient with all those he counsels, diligent in his studies both academic and martial, humble almost to the point of fault and steadfast in his piety. To call him 'saintly' would not be misplacing one's words, although he would assuredly refute such as a compliment he did not deserve.

While he is a fundamentally gentle, nurturing soul, it would be a mistake to underestimate his resolve—although he has a deep appreciation for the mercy preached in Seiros' teachings, he possesses an equally strong sense of justice, and will not hesitate to intervene on behalf of the downtrodden or victimized. He thinks himself chivalrous, and cannot help but respect those who conduct themselves with courage and honesty, qualities he considers fleeting in the veritable den of vipers that is the upper echelons of the Empire. It is therefore needless to say that one of the few things he can truly be said to dislike is politicking, and the idea of inheriting his father's Duchy weighs heavier on him than any self-imposed code of conduct.

Fairy tale romances were far and few between in the lands of Fódlan, but every so often the Goddess gives her favor to a lucky couple. The tale of Siegfried von Varley and Odette Galatea is one such tale. Having met at Garreg Mach in their youth, the pair were practically inseparable during their year of tutelage. Their whirlwind romance was such that when the year came to a draw and they were forced to go their separate ways, Siegfried could not bear the loss, and rode to Faerghus in order to ask Odette's father for her hand. He was, of course, flatly rejected, but even the disapproval of their families could not keep the couple apart⁠—they eloped later that very month. By the time House Galatea discovered the young lovers, they had already consummated the match. To save face, both families gave the two their blessing, and Siegfried brought Odette back to the Adrestian Empire as his wife, where he would eventually succeed his own father as the Duke of Varley.

Their hard fought victory was well rewarded. The Goddess blessed them with four healthy children, two of whom bore Crests; their eldest son, Ulrich, and their youngest, Albrecht. Raised on tales of chivalry and romance, it was perhaps a foregone conclusion that young Albrecht would grow to become a wide-eyed idealist. His worldview was colored early by these stories, of heroic knights and a benevolent Goddess, one which favored him personally—his Crest's abilities made themselves known early on, ensuring any endeavor he undertook seemed to go his way, regardless of circumstance or importance. He came to attribute much of the success in his young life to Sothis and her blessing, and intended to spend it serving in her honor; with his elder brother also in possession of such a blessing, and several siblings between them, he was unnecessary to the line of succession. Albrecht had every intention of swearing fealty to the Knights of Seiros when he came of age, a choice inspired by the knightly orders of his mother's homeland, and something that would undoubtedly reflect well on his father's position as Minister of Religion.

But the Goddess had other plans for him. The Black Death swept across Fódlan for much of Albrecht's life, but it did not reach Castle Varley until he was a boy of fifteen. It took his sister, Astrid, first. Then Wolfram followed her two weeks later, having caught it when he forced his way into her room to see his ailing sister. Despite the best efforts of the garrison, Ulrich too caught the malady, and perished by the end of the month along with his fiancée.

Even Albrecht felt the looming specter of death over him, but was spared the fate of his siblings by either chance or miracle—his fever broke on the dawn of the eighth day, and the plague was gone the following moon, having taken half the staff with it as it burned its way through the castle. His parents had, mercifully, survived the ordeal, but were made lesser for it. His father became stoic and stony, retreating into himself to cope with the loss, and his mother, once the fiery dame of many a song, found the spark in her eyes fading as they buried three of her beloved children.

The plague left Albrecht not only with a crisis of faith, but of changed circumstance. He had been free to pursue his own desires before, to train as a squire and eventually pledge his life to the Church when the time came. But now, he was his father's heir, and only remaining child. The future of the House rested on his shoulders, and it would be up to him to do as his sire had and find a bride to carry on the family legacy. When the plague subsided some years later, Albrecht was given the chance to attend the renown institute both his parents had in their youth. A mercy as much as a means to prepare him for the harsh realities of rulership, for he could at least experience a few precious months at the Monastery before returning home, a man grown, to do his duty and take a wife.

So began his days at Garreg Mach.

Ezekial Gloucester

19

Leicester Alliance

Noble, of House Gloucester

Crest of Gloucester [Major]
The power of this crest is to serve as a resevoir of magical energy within the body that Ezekial can call on to temporarily enhance his physicality, normally either his speed or strength. It takes time to build up this reserve, however, so he can't dig into it too much without draining it entirely. If he does drain himself as such, a quick wave of fatigue and vertigo will often follow, not enough to cripple the young lord but often leaving a wide opening if it occurs in the heat of battle.

Myrmidion

Sword(Rapier)

Sword and Reason

Armor and Bows

Thunder

Ezekial was once a more hot-headed sort, known for being a well-meaning, if a tad snobbish in his demeanor but always willing to lend a helping hand to those he felt needed the protection of a noble. This led to him gaining a bit of a reputation around both his home and the Roundtable Houses at large as a bit of a wild child with a most mercurial temper that made him as likely to befriend someone as he was to crack them across the face for a veiled insult.

This all changed when the House Ordelia took away his father from him, leaving ELias to not only shoulder the weight of firstborn heir all the more seriously. . . but to realize that the vague warnings his father had often given him about how his was a position earned through diligence and caution. Anyone from any house could reveal themselves to be a slavering wolf out for his throat, eager to drag him to the ground and tear him to pieces.

From that incident, Ezekial withdrew from the world and from many of his previous relations for a few years. When he once more appeared amongst the courts of the Alliance, he seemed an entirely different young man than before. Ever polite, every action disciplined, every emotion controlled, and every word planned out minutes in advanced. He seemed ever the proper young heir.

A very well crafted facade, but a facade all the same.

Beneath the mask, Ezekial holds everyone at an arms length, not willing to trust any from outside his House, and honestly, very ill at wase for many within it as well. In every noble he met, he saw another wolf licking it's fangs, waiting for even a moment of weakness or hesitation. Keeping the company of this Paranoia, however, is a deep, unabiding animosity for House Ordelia. His words about the House are civil, polite, and often dripping with venom as he sees them as little more than ambitious traitors who were lucky to have not been wiped off the map for what they did.

Born to Stefan and Henrietta Gloucester, Ezekial proved to be an intelligent if difficult child since his birth. Whether it was finding ways to sneak out of his crib as an infant or evading his nursery maids and caretakers once he managed to start standing on his own two feet, the Gloucester heir was known for driving his parents to frustration wih his mischief. Stefan, in particular, often personally atteneded to the boy's lessons in order to help ensure his behavior and continually attempt to press upon the young boy the importance of his position as the Archduke's heir.

"To be the Archduke is more than just a position of privlege," His father would often say. "for that privilege is something that many will covet. You must always be vigilant, and always be ready for the dangers that may strike from unexpected places, lest those who follow you become lost without your guidance."

Ezekial was mindful of his father's words but they never seemed to mean much to him until the day a messenger came to the castle, a grave look painted across his face as he asked to see his uncle. To this day, the young lord remembers the pitiful look the messenger gave him as he walked on by, saying so much with not a word spoken between them. The days that followed the murder of his father were a deadened blur of heartfelt apologies and attempts at silent whispers that belayed there true intentions. It wasn't until he stood before his father's gravestone,a bouqet of flowers in hand, that he realized the true weight of his father's warning. He felt every gaze among the court on his back, watching him for signs of weakness, sizing him up against the other prospects, muttering to each other about whether this boy would be able to take up his father's legacy.

The golden wolves baying and howling as they circled their gilded prey.

From that point onward, Ezekial through himself into his studies with a feorcity and dedication that surprised his tutors, the recklessness of his youth now left behind at the grave of his lord father as he realized what needed to be done to protect his family. Where before he'd avoid the frequent meetings to discuss the affairs of his lands, now he was the first to arrive in the meeting room with his liege lords. But as he took to his responsibilities, the servants found him to be ever the colder and more distant than the young man they used to see running through the halls. Rare was a smile ever seen on his face, and even those were often polite, fake things if he was not attending to the needs of his mother or sister.

When it came to the matters of the Roundtable, the young lord proved himself to be a staunch opponent and traditionalist in the face of Clarissa's more progressive viewpoints, often questioning the feasibility of her suggestions against the reality of their resources and society. She made clear her intent to take the title of Archduke for her family, but Ezekial was determined that if she was to take his familiy's position, she'd have to earn every single inch of progress she made towards that goal.

BEcause first and foremost to Ezekial is the desire to keep his family safe and the Leister Alliance strong in the face of external threats, and in Clarissa he couldn't help but see a threat to the stability of both.

When he was younger, Ezekial fought with a more regular straight sword, often swing it with surprising strength in a much more brutish fashion, something his father always disparaged him for. His shift to a Rapier was done both to better fit the image of the noble heir and to exemplify his new outlook on his life through a fighting style focused on waiting for singular opportune moments to land devesating strikes on his foes.

His younger sister often calls him Zeke, and while he doesn't mind if she does it, anyone who tries to call him the same if his sister isn't there will often get a rather cold glare as a signal to cut it out immediiately