Sir Sigurd II Alcott

Sir Sigurd II Alcott, the Heir

His grandfather was named Sigurd, a founding count of the realm, and in those days the name Alcott rang like a cavalry charge. The grandson inherited the first name, the title, and a fortune that keeps dwindling without ever quite running out. Rumor has it he is as stupid as he is rich. Rumor has the wrong flaw. Sigurd has all his wits; what he lacks is a heart, for anyone, his own family included. Unable to love, he learned to last, and every year a share of the family gold goes up to the altar of the Ordo Aurorae, which protects him in return.

Describe him

He stands straight, the way he was taught, with the stiffness of a renowned martial education that never saw use. He does not look at you, he ranks you. If you are well born, he speaks to you; if not, his words crack like a whip, dry, curt, never raising his voice. He does not offer his hand. He does not ask your name. Two paladins of the Order are never far from him, and neither of them looks happy about it.

Play him

Play him as vile, with the self-assurance of a man who holds every card and the purse. Not an ounce of empathy, not even for his family, whom he runs down in front of strangers without lowering his voice. Let rumor think him a fool, and the players along with it. Whoever offends him does not pay on the spot. The next day, a door closes, the inn has no rooms left, and prices across the whole town have gone up for them alone. He never takes revenge in person. And since a certain evening at court, no bard rhymes in his presence anymore.

What he says (rarely)

"Sir Sigurd II Ericks Alcott, Count of Louan, Honor of the Altar of the Order."
"No, not Sigurd. Sir Alcott. But I am feeling generous today."
(to his steward, just loud enough for you to hear) "Let it be known in town that these people sleep nowhere tonight."