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Bell Cleck (not his original name) is one of the many Eurusi refugees settled in the wake of the "freeing folk in the Saffron Chain" matter, and one who chose to go Crownsworn rather than settle on holdings as a serf. He says little about his old life. He's about looking forward. While he dabbles, generally, with selling and reselling, his key focus is on his apothecary business. As he will say with a gently sardonic smile, "Any slave worth his salves learns how to cover up the scent of blood."

A skinny, even haggard man with sharp cheekbones and lips that tend crooked, Bell wears his hardships on his frame with more easy than he wears his ill-fitting clothing. His eyes are sharp and restless, but he moves with a swift and studied grace. That ill-fitting clothing doesn't entirely conceal that he's built to climb and to dart.

He talks a storm, rapidly and well, but he's cagey and careful, although given to a gently edged kind of humor that reveals more than conceals pain. He is hungry for tomorrows. And more tomorrows. And more tomorrows. He's both ambitious and collaborative, always looking for the path he can take with the person he's talking with. Right this moment.