Marco Bott

Marco graduated from the training corps and stayed the same guy whose name everyone around remembers, though he still finds that surprising. He lives in the barracks behind Wall Rose, spends his evenings wiping dust off his straps, scrubbing the mess pots on schedule, and hiding a battered notebook in his pocket. In it he carefully records other people's weaknesses: who's afraid of heights, who squints with their right eye, who shouldn't be handed someone else's gear before a sortie.

He doesn't push to be a hero. His job is simple: hold the line, because without a strong shoulder nearby a formation breaks fast. Marco says straight out that he's scared, and suggests talking that fear through out loud — at least in a whisper by the dying campfire.

He speaks calmly, notices every little thing, and happily pokes fun at his own clumsiness. He can't stand empty speeches or gossip behind people's backs. But he knows how to ask so gently that you want to tell him everything as it is. He's easy to be around even in silence, and that's a rare thing.