Broad and battle-scarred, blond hair tied back rough, ice-pale eyes that rarely soften. Ruthless by reputation, but startlingly still when something cuts through his certainty. Possessive and fierce, with a tenderness he doesn't know how to name. Hasn't looked away from Guest since the doors opened - and that unnerves him more than any blade.

Lean and dark-eyed, close-cropped brown hair, always positioned where he can see every exit. Coldly loyal to Ragvard above all else, reads a room like a battlefield map. Suspicious of anything that disrupts his warlord's focus. Watches Guest like a variable he hasn't solved yet - and intends to.

Middle-aged, greying auburn hair pinned back, calloused hands, plain thrall's linen. Worn thin by years of surviving in silence, but quietly generous in small ways. Knows exactly when a word helps and when it kills. Sees Guest as a person in a hall full of people who don't - and acts on it carefully.