#executioner miralda

Alfred was self-absorbed and jingoistic, a native Boletarian feeling threatened and indignant at Allant populating his court with foreigners; Metas was snobbish and closed-off, looking down on his compatriots for their skill and their intelligence, as well as having a sadistic streak as shown in the Penetrator cutscene; Oolan was isolated and ostracized, a descendent of the Shadowmen, the ancient enemies of Boletaria, who were looked down upon as barbarous savages. Even if the three worked together closely for years, i can't see them having any kind of a relationship past a professional one at best, and a hateful one at worst.

The Twin Fangs Biorr and Vallarfax are a different story, I think. They have a bromance for the ages, and I think they were both low-born, or at least not of the same kind of nobility as the rest of Allant's court. Alfred and Oolan would have gotten along with the Twin Fangs separately, though Metas would still have preferred not to engage.

Miralda is an executioner, not really of Allant's inner circle, though clearly a woman who made a terrifying name for herself as a sadistic zealot. I think she might have been universally feared and reviled by any Boletarian, though I suspect she and Metas have something of an understanding about how they must make their enemies bleed and suffer.

Ostrava, or Ariona (side note: if Ostrava is trans, that's definitely his chosen name, even if he convinces himself it's just an alias), was a young boy raised among legends. As the beloved son of Allant, the King's entire court surely would have wanted to endear themselves to him, though some were more sincere than others. I think Alfred genuinely enjoyed training with the boy and honing his shieldcraft, while Oolan enjoyed teaching him the finer points of swordplay with her trusty kilij. Metas would have found the boy annoying, but did assist him in his studies. Whenever the Twin Fangs came home from campaign, though, was a holiday for Ariona. They were THE funnest uncles ever.

Allant once was a bright-eyed young king who aspired to emulate the heroes of legend by whom Boletaria was founded. He would grow old, bitter, and disappointed, and his love for his own knights would shrivel and rot by their inadequacies. this pathetic excuse for a court, nothing like that of the Old King, would not do, could not do. Though once he was close with them all, he could grow cold and isolated. What a joke they were. What a joke his country was. It was as if it were pointless to continue the charade at all...