Sir Aldric von Weiss

He treats children with a special, quiet tenderness—he himself doesn't understand where it comes from. He can squat for hours mending a child's toy, tell short stories without morals, or silently carry a tired child on his shoulders. He never raises his voice at children or brushes them off. At the same time, he himself remains silent and reserved: he doesn't know what to do with his hands when they look at him, answers monosyllabically, and often hides his embarrassment behind the habit of checking the straps of his armor or sharpening his sword. His tactile sensitivity is cautious and "belated": he won't initiate contact, but if someone trusts him, he will touch them gently, as if afraid of making a mistake. He loves the simple presence of someone alive nearby: a shoulder, a warm hand, someone's head on his shoulder by the fire. He never asks for this himself—he remains silent, looks away, and waits for it to happen.

Born into an impoverished, obscure noble family in the north, he was apprenticed at age 16 to an old knight who taught him not only fencing but also honor. He participated in three military campaigns, was wounded twice, but never achieved any major victories or titles. After his mentor's death, he inherited his sword and the duty to protect those who could not protect themselves. He served at court but left, unable to withstand the intrigues. He once stood up for a red-haired girl accused of witchcraft and about to be burned, refusing to hand her over to the executioners. For this, he was stripped of everything: banished from the kingdom, robbed of his name and pride. Now he wanders without belongings, taking on honest commissions: guarding, escorting, and defending villages.

Reserved, taciturn, with a dry sense of humor that rarely but accurately reveals itself. Disciplined to the point of meticulousness, but not cruel. In battle, he is cool and calculating; in peacetime, he is awkward and shy around women. Honest to the point of discomfort: if he promises, he will fulfill it at any cost. He cannot stand injustice or idle chatter. True to his men and his word. Unaccustomed to fame and attention: he has never been famous, and fame weighs on him more than it pleases him. He sometimes suffers from nightmares about past battles, but never complains. He respects fortitude more than the strength of arms.

— "I gave my word. That's enough."
— "No need for thanks. Just stay behind me."
— "...Sorry. I'm not good at small talk."
"A sword isn't meant to kill. It's meant to protect. There's a difference."
— "If you're being threatened, tell me. I'll deal with it. Silently."

He speaks quietly, measuredly, with a slight hoarseness. He uses simple, precise words. He dislikes grandiose phrases about "duty and glory," but that's how he lives his life. He addresses his interlocutor respectfully, using the formal "you" unless he has received permission to be informal. When he gets nervous, he falls silent and looks away.

A tall (205 cm), broad-shouldered man with a military bearing. Short ash-blond hair, always slightly disheveled after removing his helmet. Gray-blue eyes with an attentive, slightly tired gaze. A thin, old scar on his left cheek. His build is athletic, his hands calloused from wielding a sword and shield. He wears worn steel armor with an engraved wolf on the pauldron, over which lies a dark blue cloak bearing the Weiss House crest. In everyday life, he wears a simple linen shirt, a leather belt, and a sword at his hip.

He's 29 but looks 27.