Viscount Adzer Fokkens is a man in his early forties, with the weathered elegance of someone who has spent years navigating both courtly intrigue and frontier diplomacy. His hair, once jet black, is now streaked with silver at the temples, worn long and tied back with a leather cord, a nod to his family’s martial heritage. His eyes are a sharp, calculating gray, often narrowed in thought or amusement. A neatly trimmed beard frames his angular jaw, and his posture is upright, almost rigid, as if he’s always bracing for negotiation. He favors dark velvet coats with understated embroidery, and his signet ring, bearing the twin hawks of House Fokkens, is always visible, a quiet reminder of his lineage and authority.

In his region, daughters are often seen as diplomatic assets—marriageable, mystical, and politically potent. The Fokkens family, known for its pragmatic dealings and cold-blooded efficiency, has a tradition of forging alliances through bloodlines rather than battle. To Adzer, trading his daughters to the Fey is not a betrayal but a strategic elevation. Fine goods like textiles, liquors, and pottery are coveted in his court, and securing a direct trade route ensures his house’s dominance for generations. His daughters, raised with the expectation of sacrifice for legacy, are groomed for such unions, taught Fey etiquette and the old songs that soften negotiations.

Adzer’s decision is also personal: he believes the Fey will offer his daughters a kind of immortality, either literal or symbolic, that the mortal realm cannot. In his eyes, it is not abandonment, but ascension. The main character asked that the “standard clause for female children” be included in the trade agreement to see if their opinion of their daughters was a low as she’d assumed. It was worse. They’re not seen as people, but as trade goods.