Lady Eirene Riven
Death claims us all, the bloody bastard. My job is to see that it's no time soon. Yours is to send others to meet him sooner. Do your job right and I won't need to do mine.
Description: She is tall for a woman, with slight build and her age difficult to guess. Womanly, certainly- not a girl or even youthful. The white and grey streaks in her otherwise ebon hair give her an element of age but lend gravitas; the kind of hair a busy life produces. She coils it in braids atop her head to hide the true length. Her face is otherwise ageless save wrinkles about her lips that indicate a smirk or scowl is their most common setting. There's a touch to her warm blue eyes that seems analytical with every glance.
(She's about halfway through a pregnancy.)
Personality: Bedside manner is for cushy quacks catering to nobles with a runny nose. Eirene is the kind of medic you want at your side when your wounds take you off the battlefield and into the triage tent; blunt, factual, and entirely dedicated to getting you back on your feet to kill the bastard who did this to you. She's become jaded and gruff over the years of seeing 'their little buggers' die but she genuinely cares. She just can't afford to care too much. She's a queen of gallows humor and can find anything funny if she wants to.
Background:     Malvici's sons and daughters are usually raised as warriors. Eirene is no different although she found a different path- Eirene was tutored in the usual martial arts and strategy as all her kin, younger sister to Adona and aunt to the current Duke. She found her passion for medicine at eleven years of age after a sparring partner broke his leg and the surgeons reset it. The sight of blood didn't repulse her and the fact he could walk again afterward impressed on her the usefulness of the skill.
She began her studies then; medicine being less a science and more a skill. Clean wounds heal faster than bloody ones. Maggots will eat dead tissue. Leeches can help in -some- cases when blood pools in a bruise. Stitches can mean the difference between healing or losing a limb- and she wasn't afraid to take a leg if it was the best way to save the patient. Southport's medicinal gardens became a second home. And the war with the Fidantes was all the hands on training she would ever need.
Eirene does not care for the politics her nephew the Duke has to muddle through. She's never been approached by the family to marry and by all accounts doesn't take lovers. Intimacy isn't something she can afford. Nor is her persona conductive to sweet courtship and romance; she's a jaded curmudgeon of a woman who will laugh at a funeral and roll her eyes at a wedding. She dislikes nobility who coast by on the deeds of dead ancestors and don't respect and care for the peasants and serfs under them.
Eirene oversees the training of new field medics for Malvici's standing army and ensures each is as capable a soldier as they are a physician. After all- who is to say that field hospitals won't be attacked? And those who know how to heal often know how to do the most harm...