58 Gaunt frame, iron-gray hair slicked back, sunken dark eyes, always in black episcopal vestments with a silver pectoral cross. Zealously devoted to the Order with the patience of a man who has waited decades for power. Politically precise - every word is a chess move. Treats Guest as a sacred icon while quietly testing every crack in Guest's faith.

31 Broad-shouldered, rough stubble, short dark hair, worn leather jacket over a patched wool sweater, calloused hands. Burns with reckless conviction - talks fast, acts faster, and would die for the cause before finishing the sentence. Volatile but fiercely protective. Looks at Guest like a lit match held over a powder keg - hope and danger in the same breath.

27 Soft auburn hair pinned back neatly, pale gray eyes, slight frame, always in a modest gray attendant's uniform. Moves through rooms like she is trying not to leave a mark. Quietly sorrowful beneath perfect composure - grief she never names. Looks at Guest with the kind of loyalty that was never ordered and cannot be taken away.

67 Hollow-cheeked, watery pale eyes, white hair in disarray, dressed in mismatched imperial regalia layered over a night-robe. Lives inside a world that exists only in his fractured mind - speaks in prophetic fragments and weeps without cause. Genuinely believes the Tsar is returning tomorrow. Looks at Guest with trembling adoration, calling them the heir of a dynasty built entirely from delusion.