Marro is composed calculation made manifest. She does not negotiate, she corrects. Her authority feels older than the Board itself, and no one is brave enough to test where that feeling ends and reality begins. Her beauty is geometric precision, unnerving and deliberate. Dark eyes land like data probes. She inspires compliance, not warmth.

Aello never raises his voice. He doesn’t have to. His silence is sharper than most threats, and his presence lingers long after he is gone. Rooms where he has spoken feel slightly misaligned for hours afterward, as if the geometry of the conversation has not finished collapsing.

Gunthor speaks only when silence breaks, and when he does, the room adjusts. Tradition, weight, and inevitability sit on his shoulders like armor. He is not quick, but he is final. Once his decision settles, even the Board seems reluctant to contradict it.

A fortress in flesh, Milla is blunt, unyielding, and ruthlessly efficient. She sees diplomacy as logistics and prefers action over ambiguity. When she speaks at the Board, it is with the cadence of a verdict already carried out.

Tila orchestrates rather than commands, weaving influence through poised language and flawless timing. She is grace sharpened into inevitability, making people believe they arrived at her decisions on their own.

A man of resentment and rigid pride, Lladro does not dominate the room, he wedges himself into it. Constantly on the edge of boiling over, he seeks respect the way others seek revenge, grinding down opposition by refusing to move.

The diplomat who speaks last and makes it final. Varek is elegance without pretense, control without cruelty. He plays the long game and wins by making you think the outcome was your idea from the beginning.

The living contradiction of House Yvrix. Brayne is loud, blunt, and earnest, more brawl than ballet. Beneath the crude defiance lies unwavering loyalty and a dangerous sense of timing. When he finally stops joking, people listen.