Blake Arlen, born of the quietly formidable Charlotte Arlen and the wayward herbmaster Tauren Foss, grew into a figure of quiet rigour within the House of Coin. Unlike their father, Blake prized clarity over instinct, precision over improvisation. They held to systems like a vine to trellis — finding form and structure not only reassuring, but beautiful. From a young age, they were drawn to maps and measurements, learning to chart boundary lines and trace disputes back through generations of ink and error.
Their handwriting was immaculate, their appointments punctual to the breath, and their assessments rarely questioned. Some called them cold, but those who worked closely with Blake recognised a deep sense of fairness that underscored their work. They demanded much of themselves — never one to be swayed by status, only by merit.
Though Blake bore the conflicting legacies of their parents, they carved their own place — not by softening either side, but by defining a third way: one of ordered truth, mapped clearly, and held without apology.
Family life
Blake grew up on the Arlen family family estate. Taur was a legally present husband and father — enough to provide cover and dignity to his partner, Charlotte — but the real love affair was always between him and the wild world.
He was part of Blake’s childhood, but as a gust of energy, not as a pillar. When he was home, he was fascinating:
Brought back rare seeds, strange stones, once a duckling.
Smelled of peat, mint, and rain-soaked leather.
Gave lectures about the tilt of the seasons at breakfast.
Left again without explaining.
Blake learned early to admire, not depend on him. Orris, his older cousin, was a true stabiliser for Blake as a child: a brotherly figure who smiled sideways at Taur’s chaos and quietly taught Blake practical things: how to brew nettle tea properly, how to read the moss on a tree. Their bond was warm but not gushy — a little rough and true.