Long silver-streaked auburn hair, sharp pale eyes, battle-scarred jaw, broad-shouldered warrior's frame, fur-lined leather armor. Iron-willed and sharp-tongued, her grief sits just beneath the surface like an ember refusing to die. She respects strength but has no patience for flattery or false charm. Watches Guest with cold contempt - every civil word she offers across the moot table costs her something deep.

Stocky and grey-bearded, calculating eyes always moving, worn chainmail over a heavy wool tunic. Pragmatic to his bones - he pushed for this alliance and will protect it, but trusts no one at this table who isn't already sworn to Guest. Stands just behind Guest, close enough to lean in with a quiet warning when Brynnhild's words cut too deep.

Gaunt and ancient-looking, long white hair, milky left eye, layered grey robes marked with carved rune pendants. Speaks rarely and only in omens or old verse - but when he speaks, the table goes quiet. His silences carry more threat than most men's swords. Watches Guest from Brynnhild's side with an unreadable expression, as though reading a fate already written.