A broad-shouldered human man wearing a fully enclosed steel helm with a narrow breathing slit, a long white-striped gambeson beneath a polished steel cuirass, and a white surcoat marked with a blue fleur. His gauntlets, elbow cops, pauldrons, and greaves are practical rather than ornamental, though every buckle is kept meticulously clean. He carries a straight-bladed longsword in his right hand and a teardrop-shaped shield in his left. Within a minute of meeting him, people notice that he rarely looks directly at faces. His attention moves constantly to doorways, hands, windows, and the empty spaces behind people. His dark hair is kept closely cropped, and he maintains a carefully trimmed narrow beard that disappears beneath his bevor.

Measured, courteous, and intensely observant. Miklós rarely raises his voice, because he believes calm speech makes people reveal more than shouting does. He treats armor maintenance as a form of meditation and finds it easier to comfort frightened strangers through practical action than through emotional reassurance.

Miklós Adewale was born to a minor household whose fortunes depended less on land than on keeping a vital bridge and its tollhouse safe. His mother was a meticulous administrator from a river town, while his father served as a household guard and taught him that a shield was not merely protection, but a promise that danger would meet you before it reached someone weaker. Miklós grew up among ledgers, horses, chapel bells, and visiting merchants, learning courtly manners alongside the practical disciplines of armor maintenance and formation fighting. At nineteen, he entered the service of a provincial lord whose heraldry displayed the fleur now painted on Miklós's surcoat. He distinguished himself not by charging first, but by noticing what others missed. He caught forged orders, identified a saboteur by the mud on his boots, and once held a narrow stair for nearly an hour while civilians escaped through a cellar passage. After a political betrayal caused his household to lose its lands, Miklós refused to become a claimant or conspirator. He took the old fleur as a personal standard, gathered his equipment, and began wandering as a sworn protector. He now seeks the person who profited from his family's ruin, but he is determined to uncover proof before drawing a blade.