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Scandal recently hit the House of Steelhart as one of their little known secrets - secret even to prominent figures within the House - came to light. The child of the true heir, Roslyn Steelhart, has recently resurfaced. The child was whispered to be a bad omen, conceived in lies and false desires. At first, the child was wanted, a symbol of a foolish love. But when that love turned to ash, as betrayal's dagger twisted in her gut, the love she'd had for the child was forsaken. The betrayal ate at her and whispers say that she was taken to madness before whatever mysterious illness took her physically. There were those that knew of Kael, however. The midwife, loyal to the House who was ordered to declare him stillborn, taking him from her sight. The governess that raised him, treating him as one of her own. Then there was the mysterious benefactor, the one that made certain he had silver for a suitable rearing. The only hint of his origin, no last name, were the Mastiffs that he was supplied with. It was that mysterious benefactor that illuminated Frederik himself to Kael's unfortunate circumstances, and the Lord fetched the boy so that he could take his proper place in the family. He thought, he hoped, that the child had perhaps escaped the heavy price that came with being a Steelhart. The new Lord is shrouded in mystery, newly arrived, newly recognized as Voice (as a trial, it is rumored), and placed in the thick of the fire even as Frederik plans to retreat further. As a parting gift, to make no question of his legitimacy, a wife was acquired for him from the noble Wyrmguard family.

There is no mistaking the fact that his form, his bearing, is one of presence. There is something naturally solid about him, from the way that he moves his broad frame in a deliberate manner, to the way that his large hands are heavily calloused. He resonates salt of the earth, from sun-worn skin, dark heavy brows, and rugged jawline that is obscured by a beard that sometimes is allowed to go untrimmed. Underneath this lack of polish, however, there is a handsome nobility. His cheekbones are high, his eyes expressive, and he carries himself with a sense of self possession that rises him above the common man.

While very little is known about this newly fledged noble, he appears to be made of the salt of the earth. Despite being rough around the edges, there is no doubting his genuine nature. He speaks the truth, or at least perceived truth, no matter if he is swiftly offering a few brusque words, or if he takes the time to craft something more eloquently spoken. Steadfast, loyal, dependable. When his word is given, it is a vow, and he expects others to behave in the same manner. This makes him a keen ally, but not one that participates well in those very necessary political schemes. Deception is treated as a grave insult, with a heavy price demanded in retribution.