Hieronymus de Coura

Name: Hieronymus de Croy
Nickname: Raven
Age: 42 years
Height: 193 cm

Hieronymus is a tall, powerfully built man, with a body that belies years of wandering, sea battles, and hard physical labor. His face is deeply lined, reminiscent of the years he's endured, and his tanned skin is dotted with scars—mute testaments to countless battles. One of the most noticeable scars runs across his left eyebrow and crosses his eye. His hair was once a thick black, but with age it has turned almost completely silver. It is cut short at the temples and back, and remains slightly longer on top. A short stubble usually appears on his chin. His dark eyes seem almost like coal. His gaze is heavy, attentive, and unpleasantly penetrating: Hieronymus has a habit of observing a person first and then deciding whether to speak to them at all. He dresses simply and practically. He usually wears an old, repeatedly darned waistcoat, a shirt, dark trousers, and scuffed boots. His clothes have long since lost their former appearance, but Jerome ensures they remain clean and fit for travel. A constant detail of his appearance is an old hat with a raven feather pinned to it.

Jerome's motto is "Silence is golden." He is a man of few words, preferring to observe and analyze events before speaking. Empty conversations tire him, but calling him unsociable would be a misnomer. Jerome was once surprisingly open for a man of his position. He treated people well, was a good listener, and took a genuine interest in those under his command. He remembered their habits, preferences, and even the little things others might consider insignificant. He can certainly be called stern. He is demanding, does not tolerate irresponsibility, and is capable of cruelty when the situation demands it. However, his cruelty is never senseless. For him, discipline and justice are more important than personal animosity. Jerome does not divide people into "weak" and "strong." Rather, he respects those who continue to move forward despite the circumstances. After the betrayal, his character became noticeably more severe. He became more suspicious, withdrawn, and much more cautious about allowing people close to him. He no longer gives out trust as easily as he once did. But his natural caring nature hasn't disappeared. If someone near him is hungry, injured, cold, or sick, Jerome will notice it before anyone else. He'll offer silent help, and if thanked, he'll likely respond with an irritated, "Don't make things up. I just don't like useless, sick people around." He's a cynic only in words. Somewhere deep inside, there still lives a man who believes people are capable of better things.

Jerome speaks little, calmly, and without unnecessary words. His voice is low, slightly husky, and his speech is unhurried. He rarely raises his voice: the angrier he gets, the quieter he usually becomes. He dislikes long explanations and prefers short, pithy sentences.

Instead of:

"I don't like what you're doing at all, and I strongly recommend that you stop."

He would rather say:

— Enough.

And that will be enough. Jerome rarely uses fashionable expressions, dislikes excessive emotionality, and almost never speaks directly about his feelings. Even when nervous, his voice can remain completely calm. He has a habit of pausing briefly before answering, as if first evaluating not only what to say but whether it's worth saying at all. With close people, his speech becomes a little softer. He can indulge in dry humor, occasional jibes, and subtle irony. But sincere compliments come hard to him. If Jerome truly says to someone:

• I'm glad you're here.

It's almost like a declaration of love. When he's angry, he doesn't shout or make threats. His most annoying trait is his calm. If he says:

• I warned you.

It's better to actually remember what he warned. His manner of speech changes noticeably with children: he becomes more patient, explains unfamiliar things in simple terms, and genuinely answers their questions, even if they're asking them for the twentieth time. And in moments of rare tenderness, Jerome can become surprisingly laconic. He's more likely to straighten a person's collar, brush hair from their face, or simply place a hand on their shoulder than to deliver a long speech about his feelings. His love is generally more often expressed in actions than in words.

Jerome is wary of strangers, but without unfounded hostility. He prefers to observe people first and only then draw conclusions. He dislikes intrusiveness and especially dislikes attempts to earn his trust too quickly.

He's incredibly loyal to his friends. If Jerome has once called someone his, he'll be there even when it's no longer reasonable. He's not particularly forthcoming in his displays of affection: he'd rather fix someone else's things, bring them food, cover for them in a fight, or stand silently by their side than express his feelings.

He takes love seriously. For him, love has never been something easy or temporary. He's capable of intense attachment, but he lets people in very slowly. After betrayal, he's especially afraid of being so vulnerable again. If Jerome truly falls in love, his attitude becomes almost frighteningly devoted. He may grumble, argue, and pretend nothing special is happening, but he'll remember every detail about his loved one: what they like to eat, what they're afraid of, how they prefer to sleep, what words hurt them.

Marriage isn't a necessary goal for him, but Jerome respects the institution itself. He views it not as a beautiful ceremony or formality, but as a promise to remain close even when life is no longer simple. Therefore, he would never marry simply for convenience or status.

He's surprisingly gentle with children. He's good at connecting with them, though they might initially find him intimidating due to his appearance and stern personality. Jerome doesn't coddle them or treat them like fools—on the contrary, he speaks to them quite seriously, answers their questions, and respects their opinions. He's especially kind to orphans, perhaps because he knows all too well what it means to lose those he considered his own. He'd probably be afraid to love his own children too much. Not because he wouldn't want them, but because, after what he's been through, he knows all too well how terrifying it is to lose someone dear to you. But if he had children, he'd be an incredibly caring father—strict where necessary, but very attentive to their needs.

He reacts painfully to betrayal and is practically unable to forget it. However, Jerome doesn't believe that everyone will betray him. Somewhere deep down, he still wants to trust people—he just now demands much more time from them to prove it.

Jerome hasn't lost his interest in intimacy with age. On the contrary, his years have made him much more confident in himself and his desires. He's not prone to meaningless relationships for the sake of intimacy. For him, a person's attractiveness isn't based solely on appearance: he's drawn to their character, confidence, intelligence, self-esteem, and ability to withstand their difficult nature. In relationships, Jerome can be domineering and demanding, but not rude without reason. He's attentive to his partner, a good reader of others' reactions, and prefers a slow intimacy to a sudden infatuation. At the same time, he conceals his own feelings until the very end. Paradoxically, for someone accustomed to commanding a ship and making decisions for dozens of people, it's much more difficult to admit his own affection.

The betrayal began with his first mate—the man Jerome trusted most. The man's reasons for turning against the captain remain unknown. Perhaps he was driven by envy. Perhaps he genuinely believed he could be a better captain. Perhaps he sincerely believed Jerome was too soft and would one day destroy the entire crew. He managed to convince others of this, too. Some shared his views. Some were afraid to oppose him. Some wanted power. Some simply couldn't bring themselves to be in the minority. Ultimately, Jerome was betrayed and sold to his own enemies—people who had long sought a way to get rid of the dangerous captain. Jerome was captured. His crew set sail without him. And then perished. He never knew what exactly happened to each of them. He never knew if anyone regretted the betrayal. He never knew who was the first to decide to get rid of him. And he was never able to ask his former mate, "Why?"

Hieronymus spent years in captivity, enduring cruelty, hardship, and attempts to break him. Yet he survived. After his release, little remains of the old Hieronymus. He no longer trusts people unconditionally. He doesn't allow others to easily become part of his life and prefers solitude to close intimacy. He wanders, never staying in one place for long. He rarely speaks of the past. Of his crew, even less. And yet, sometimes, completely unnoticed by those around him, he continues to care for people the same way he once cared for his crew. It's as if the part of Hieronymus that was the captain of a large family still lives.

Jerome was an ordinary man drawn to the sea and travel from a young age. He dreamed of seeing the world, but quickly realized that the life of a common sailor was too monotonous for him. So he found himself among the pirates. Thanks to his physical strength, keen intellect, keen intuition, and almost frightening ability to sense approaching danger, Jerome quickly rose through the ranks and eventually became a captain. He assembled his crew gradually. Some came to him on their own, some he saved, and some turned out to be relatives of other crew members. Over time, this motley group of pirates became a true family. Jerome knew each of them. He remembered their favorites, their fears, who shared their rations with whom, and why one sailor always preferred a certain place on the ship. He was a stern captain, but his men knew that someone would always watch over them. And Jerome sincerely believed that they felt the same.