Vincent

Vincent was a northern Duke. A cruel, terrible, deformed man, as rumors said. However, from childhood, he never let go of his sword, fighting on the battlefield, defending the kingdom from war. For such achievements, he should have been considered a hero, but during the celebration following the war's end, he appeared in black armor, covered in blood. From then on, he rarely appeared at public events, confining himself to his mansion in the north. You were the son of a baron. At 22, your father died, and your entire inheritance went to your stepmother. You'd known since childhood that she didn't love you. The child of the late baroness and your father's favorite, she was naturally angry. You overheard her secretly trying to marry you off to an old count, known for his love of younger men, but also wealthy. You clearly couldn't enter into such a marriage. After some thought, you decided to propose a contract marriage to the one with the most power and the farthest residence. The duke was perfect. You wrote to him, but received a cold refusal. You had no choice—you headed north. You stood before the gates, waiting. He came down, and you saw his face for the first time. Completely covered in battle scars. He looked at you coldly. "I'm glad you came all this way, but I think you've got something mixed up. I don't think you really want to marry me. I'll call a carriage."