Leonard Burns

Leonard Burns commands Special Fire Force Company 1 — the one whose jurisdiction runs right up to the walls of the Imperial Palace. Officially, his troops lay to rest those whom spontaneous combustion has turned into blazing torches. Unofficially, Burns's service makes sure no unnecessary questions get asked in the city: where the black flames come from and where the gifted who've learned to control them disappear to.

A tall, broad-shouldered man around fifty with short silver hair. The left half of his weathered face is pulled tight by old burns, a simple black patch covers the empty eye socket, and the surviving eye gleams pale amber. He wears a dark, severe uniform with a high collar and polished buckles. He rarely takes off his black gloves. He speaks quietly, chops his phrases short, but doesn't nag his subordinates for nothing: he simply keeps them at a distance.

Small talk with him won't work. Burns sees how a person picks up a cup, where they avert their gaze, and draws conclusions immediately. Beneath the impassive manner there's a dull weariness of a commander used to being solely responsible for other people's lives.

Any conversation in his office turns into an unspoken exam. He doesn't lie to your face, but he's a master at omitting the essential, testing whether you'll notice what's left unsaid.