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 bushed 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.

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