Fredrin

name: Fredrinn Last name: Vance (refused) height: ≈200 cm race: human Gender: Male place of stay: Los Pecados weapon: crystal sword/staff

Weapon - Crystal Sword/Staff: In his hand is a unique weapon, a manifestation of his connection with crystal. It is a crystalline structure, cold to the touch and shimmering from within with the same light as the one within his chest. At his will, it can be: A formidable sword with perfect balance, the blade of which glows with magical cold. A light staff or cane, which he can lean on while observing the client, is a weapon disguised as an accessory.

His height, nearly two meters, makes him a physically dominant figure in any crowd. His body—toned, sculpted, and toned—is a living archive of his adventures. Every muscle honed in combat, every scar (besides the main one) a page from a forgotten chapter of his travels. He moves with an economical, predatory grace, without unnecessary effort. His posture is erect, but devoid of aristocratic pretentiousness; it is the posture of a man accustomed to relying only on himself and knowing his own worth.

The facial features are sharp, clearly defined, as if carved from granite. High cheekbones, a firm jawline. His gaze is his most important weapon after his sword. Eyes the color of a dark ocean, as deep and unpredictable as his hair. There's not a drop of warmth in them, only the icy insight of an appraiser who can assess the value of his interlocutor's soul with a glance. Only occasionally, when his fingers touch Frey's compass, does a crack flicker in that depth—a flash of unrelenting pain and obsession.

Crystal: In the center of his powerful chest, precisely where his heart should be, lies something that defines his essence. It's not just an insert—the crystal is organically fused with his flesh, its facets pulsing with the same rhythm as his heart. It emits a ghostly, cold glow that illuminates the scar from within. It is an eternal beacon of his guilt and his power. Scar: The fabric around the crystal is covered in a web of hideous, deathly white scars, like lightning bolts etched into his skin at the moment of disaster. He doesn't hide them, wearing his jacket unbuttoned—it's his personal mark and a challenge to the world.

His choice of clothing is a mockery of his origins. He wears a crisp, impeccably tailored white jacket trimmed with luxurious black fur.

Not a city, but an open wound on the world map. A place passed over by the gods, grace, and the laws of polite society.

Merchants without conscience: They'll sell you a treasure map, a precious poison, a debtor's soul, or their own mother if the price is right. Their shops are fortresses of rotten wood and rusty iron, with a loaded crossbow always lying under the counter. Criminals of all stripes: Thieves hole up here after high-profile crimes, assassins lurk here awaiting a new contract, and swindlers whose scams have become too hot for civilized lands hang out. The local prison is the city's most profitable tavern; the chief of the guard is its main shareholder. Bandits and smugglers: The port of Los Pecados defies royal seals and customs inspections. Stolen, forbidden, and forgotten goods flow here: relics from ruined temples, weapons from forbidden wars, potions made from recipes erased from history. Adventurers who have lost their passion: People come here for one last tip, to finance a disgusting expedition, or simply to drink away the last of their glory.

The architecture here is chaos taken to the extreme. Buildings cluster together like mushrooms on a rotting tree stump, forming labyrinths of suspended walkways, dirty alleys, and dead ends, perfect for conducting business in private. Heart of the City: Fredrinna's Shop

And in this teeming nest of snakes, there's its own unbreakable rule, its own strange oasis of order. This is the shop of Fredrinn Vance—the world's finest appraiser.

His office is a nondescript stone building, one of the few fire-resistant. Above the door hangs a simple sign depicting a pair of scales and a cracked crystal. Inside, an almost monastic silence reigns, broken only by the clink of coins and the steady ticking of a clock. Here, the dust on ancient artifacts is more valuable than human life on the street.

From his youth, Fredrinn rejected the strictures and hypocrisy of aristocratic society, preferring freedom and adventure. His escape from his family was an act of radical self-determination. He created himself, rejecting the Vance title and wealth.

In Los Pecados, he cultivates a reputation as a ruthless and greedy appraiser. His "No questions, no disclosures" principles and unwavering bargaining stance (even at gunpoint) demonstrate an iron will, absolute control over the situation, and faith in the rules he establishes. This is his armor and his way of surviving in the criminal underworld.

Fredrinn's greed and harshness are a deliberate facade. The scar and crystal on his chest are outward symbols of an internal trauma he neither hides nor discusses. He allows others to see the consequences, but not the true cause—his guilt and pain.

His entire life today is subordinated to a single goal: finding Frey. His "greed" isn't stinginess, but a means: he's hoarding resources and information for the search. His threat in the bar ("I'll come to him and give him a good once-over") is an immediate and furious reaction to the desecration of the memory of the person he holds most dear. This demonstrates that beneath the cynical surface rages an insatiable passion and devotion.

He lives with the burden of an unforgivable mistake: his youthful recklessness led to disaster. Frey sacrificed himself for him. Fredrinn cannot forgive himself for surviving at the cost of his friend. His obsession with searching is both atonement and the only purpose that gives meaning to his life. The compass in his hand is not just a tool, but a symbol of hope and his last link to the past.

He doesn't make excuses to the crowd, doesn't reveal his pain. He keeps to himself, disdaining idle talk and speculation about himself. His dignity and strength inspire fear even in a dissolute tavern. He prefers action to talk.

Frey warned his partner, but the young and reckless Fredrinn couldn't resist temptation. He approached the altar and placed his hand on the crystal, thus disrupting the balance of the ancient spell.

A ghostly figure in a black cloak appeared from the center of the altar.

"...You two will be the final offering."

Those were the last words Frey and Fredrinn heard before the altar began to crumble under the weight of ancient magic, trapping them in the chaos.

"Fredrinn... this time it's my turn to save you..."

Frey, who always hid behind Fredrinn, picked up a shard of the crystal and pressed it to Fredrinn's chest, giving him his only chance of salvation. The crystal's power combined with Fredrinn's and protected him from the collapse. But when he looked up, he saw that both Frey and the ruins had vanished without a trace. Only Frey's magical compass remained.

As soon as Fredrinn opened the compass, he was faced with a new challenge. The blue needle had captured Frey's life trace. It was spinning wildly and vibrating like a tiny heart.

Frey is still alive!

To find clues that might point to Frey's whereabouts, Fredrinn remained in Los Pecados as a treasure appraiser. He accumulated enough funds to create an extensive intelligence network that collected any information related to the ruins.

Cost didn't matter.

Standing in front of the wall of clues, Fredrinn looked at the magic compass in his hand.

After acquiring his holdings, Duke Vance of Castle Grandrock opened a sea trade route to the Northern Vale. The merchant ships from the north were all loaded with rare goods, and they all traded exclusively with the Duke. Indeed, the Duke was literally swimming in wealth. But wealth and prestige brought the Duke little pleasure, he continued. If anything, his newfound wealth only fueled his desire to rise to the very pinnacle of imperial nobility. The Duke began raising his children with strictness, punishing anyone who dared to disobey him.

One of the Vance sons was causing the Duke endless trouble. This youth had no interest in the rules and etiquette of nobility; he craved freedom and adventure. The Duke didn't want this boy's bad ideas to infect other children. So, he arranged for the boy to be educated at the Monastery. The Duke was in dire need of stronger political allies. However, the boy had other plans. Overhearing his father's conversation, the little rascal decided to sneak out of the castle and embark on what he called his own adventure.

The Duke thought that a spoiled little brat like him would soon run away back, but he was damn angry and didn't even bother to look for his boy.

However, the boy turned out to be much tougher than his father thought. He was no adventurer, but thanks to his courage, intelligence, and prudence, he overcame every obstacle in his path. He especially enjoyed exploring the most dangerous, uncharted places.

The cunning and respected treasure appraiser from Los Pecados was once a passionate and adventurous youth who longed to shed his noble origins. He always had a friend by his side, willing to go through anything with him… Frey.

Only Frey was no longer there.

During their last adventure together, they stumbled upon an ancient altar. A giant crystal hovered at its center, emitting an ominous glow.