Major Ambrose Pearson

Major Ambrose Pearson is a spy in the Imperial Army stationed in Susselfen along with Nelhoepher, Lem, Bertronius, and McNab. Pearson is a thin, narrow man in his early thirties and is highly regarded by his fellows as a spy, but not well-known by any of his comrades.

The flat Fethilian drawl he has adopted and the drab, somewhat dingy wardrobe he wears daily masks Pearson's comparatively privileged upbringing. Born to a highly successful book merchant in Opleneer, young Pearson came from a family wealthy enough to afford a classical education for their children - all 17 of them. Pearson is as well-versed in the finer distinctions of the arts and etiquette as any vassal. He is also an extremely well-travelled gentlemen prone to flouting social conventions: prior to joining the army, Pearson joined a band of Felintark caravaners ostensibly to investigate the possibility of acquiring Felin books for sale in Elothnin. During his travels, Pearson became fluent in Felin, participated in skirmishes on the nybbas with Inlan nomads, and herded giant goats in the Brovnajian Steppes before returning home ten years to the day after he'd left. Pearson is currently married to (and frequently corresponds with) an Inalan priestess, a felintark poetess, and has recently secretly eloped with a red elvish whore from the Blushing Loaf, but prefers to keep such things to himself.

Unlike virtually all other spies currently employed by Her Majesty, Pearson was drafted. Given the considerations of loyalty and trustworthiness that distinguish volunteers from the conscripted, it should come as no surprise that status as a draftee alone is typically enough to prevent entry to spy training. Pearson's other undenaible qualities led Atelon Scrudton to look past this in his favor. In a memo to his close confidante and protege, Caspio McNab, Scrudton wrote the following about Pearson:

Caspio! what luck! After many months of searching, I think I may have finally found a suitable replacement for you. What know you of a one Ambrose Pearson? I daresay I shan't expect you to know much - seems as though no one knows much about the lad at all, as if he lacks a past.

But I distract myself. The cause for my unbridled excitement is this: this Pearson posseses such a cunning, such a craftiness the likes of which are rare indeed. And, were that not enough, he has a face that is appealing but never betrays his thoughts, without a lick of training! Such raw talent I haven't seen since I first met you, my dear friend.

I daresay he lacks your warmth, that gregariousness you have which puts people at ease so quickly, but he bests you in at least one way: the boy is a more natural actor than I have ever seen. He is so observant - changing his posture, matching the accents of those around him flawlessly - he is a veritable chameleon. A more natural intelligence officer i've never met, including you or I. Were it not for the troublesome issue of his drafting, he would already have been sent to you for training.

Despite the great talent Pearson has in disguising his true nature from those around him, his peculiar sense of humor has always been his greatest tell. He has a singular wit - acerbic, sardonic, and suspciously worldy - that betrays the full scope of his varied experiences and keen intelligence. It is suspected, but not donfirmed, that a number of the more sarcastic and witty journalistic stories being printed in recent years about experiences on the front are actually Pearson's handiwork published under a pseudonyms.