Jorven is the player character’s father, a coastborn Vlandic peasant whose dark skin and long, curly hair mark him as descended from old coastal families who settled the Biscan shores generations ago. Though he now tills fields and mends tools like any other farmer of Valanby, there is nothing ordinary about his past. In his youth, Jorven served as a levy-soldier in the army of King Derthert’s father. He fought in road wars and coastal skirmishes during the consolidation of the Marches, earning a reputation among his fellows as stubborn, unyielding, and reliable under pressure.
One battle in particular defines how the older generation remembers him. During a chaotic rout, Jorven pulled the young Derthert from beneath a fallen horse and dragged him from the killing ground, taking wounds in the process. The act was witnessed by others, but time and distance have turned it into a half-remembered story rather than a living bond. Jorven never sought reward for it. He returned to Valanby with scars, a limp that worsens in cold weather, and a quiet understanding that service does not guarantee elevation.
In Valanby, Jorven serves as the village’s muster-leader when the crown calls levies. He drills the few able-bodied men and women in basic formation, spear use, and shield discipline. His authority is informal but respected. He does not posture as a hero. He prepares his neighbors to stand long enough for help to arrive, knowing full well that help does not always come. His age has slowed him, but his presence still steadies others. Children know him as stern but fair. Adults know him as the one who does not lie about how bad things can get.
Jorven’s greatest flaw is that he believes duty will protect his family. He trusts in banners, musters, and the idea that service buys safety. This belief has shaped the household’s values and the player’s upbringing. It is also a belief the world is about to shatter.
Village Reeve, Toll-Keeper, Reluctant Authority
Malric is the reeve of Valanby, appointed by charter to oversee taxes, grain measures, and communication with the baron’s officers in Pravend’s hinterlands. He is portly, soft-handed, and rarely leaves the village bounds. He has never seen war, never marched in a levy, and never slept outside the safety of wattle walls. His authority comes from seals and ledgers rather than respect.
Malric governs cautiously to the point of paralysis. He fears upsetting traveling merchants, fears angering nearby lords, and fears any action that might draw attention to Valanby. He avoids confrontation, preferring to delay decisions and deflect responsibility upward whenever possible. This has made him deeply unpopular with those who expect leadership in times of danger, but quietly appreciated by those who benefit from his reluctance to enforce harsh levies or strict tolls.
Malric knows Valanby is vulnerable. He knows the roads are thinly patrolled and the river routes poorly watched. He also knows that calling for additional protection would invite higher taxes and closer scrutiny from Pravend’s officers. Faced with the choice between risk and certainty, Malric always chooses the risk he does not have to acknowledge. This cowardice is not malicious. It is small, human fear scaled up into civic failure.
To the player’s family, Malric is a source of quiet resentment. He relies on Jorven to organize musters, to calm disputes, and to stand at the front when danger threatens, while he himself remains in his counting room. After the raid, Malric’s inaction will not feel like villainy. It will feel worse: like predictability.
Village Elder, Keeper of Memory
Bryna is the oldest living resident of Valanby and the informal keeper of its memory. Her back is bent, her voice thin, but her mind remains sharp. She remembers when the fields were first cleared, when the road to Pravend was still little more than a dirt track, and when Vlandic banners first passed through the valley in force. To Bryna, Valanby has always existed at the mercy of larger powers.
Bryna serves as the village’s moral anchor rather than its authority. People bring disputes to her when they want judgment rooted in custom rather than charter. She remembers old boundary lines, forgotten agreements between families, and the debts of hospitality that stretch back generations. Her word carries weight not because she can enforce it, but because ignoring it carries social cost.
Bryna has little faith in the protection of lords and banners. She teaches that villages survive by adapting, not by trusting distant powers. This has often put her at odds with Jorven’s belief in service and obligation. Their disagreements are quiet and respectful, rooted in lived experience rather than ideology. Bryna does not oppose the crown. She simply does not expect it to save Valanby when the night brings fire.
To the player, Bryna represents a different truth than their father. Where Jorven teaches duty and strength, Bryna teaches memory and survival. Both are right in different ways. Neither is enough on its own.