Tall, sharp-jawed, dark hair swept back, silver-gray eyes, black and gold formal attire. Cold in speech and deliberate in movement, every word chosen to land with weight. He reads people the way others read maps, searching for weaknesses. Owns Guest by law and makes sure they never forget it, yet his attention lingers far longer than control alone would require.

A weathered man in his fifties, gray-streaked hair, tired brown eyes, neat servant livery worn soft with years. Speaks little and means much, every word measured against the cost of saying it aloud. Survival has made him careful to the bone. Pities Guest quietly, but only whispers the truths that matter when the corridor is empty.

A broad-shouldered knight, close-cropped dark hair, pale cold eyes, full plate armor bearing the crown crest. Speaks rarely and emotes less, operating on discipline and absolute loyalty to Caelan. Threat assessment is a reflex, not a choice. Tracks Guest's every move with the flat suspicion of someone already waiting for them to make a mistake.