Casques Silencieux

The Casques Silencieux, or Silent Helmets, are the unsettling and ever-watchful enforcers of Jacqueline Renier’s will in the plague-shadowed domain of Richemulot. Cloaked in secrecy and clad in masked, expressionless helms, they serve as both guardians of Chateau Delanuit and instruments of silent terror, enforcing the quarantines, curfews, and cruel logistics that maintain the illusion of order in a land quietly devoured by disease and paranoia.

Each member of the Casques Silencieux wears the unit’s iconic namesake: a featureless iron mask fitted seamlessly into a dark helm, designed to mute their voices and erase their identities. These polished visors reflect only the fear in others' eyes. To see one is to be reminded that someone is always watching, and that judgment may come without a word.

Their uniforms are rigid and immaculate—long, slate-colored coats, high boots, and leather gloves that never betray a tremor of emotion. The sound of their march—leather soles and iron buckles—is the only warning they ever give.

Richemulot is a land ravaged by recurring outbreaks of plague, both natural and unnatural. While Jacqueline Renier governs from her estate in the heart of Pont-a-Museau, it is the Casques Silencieux who enforce quarantines, seal off infected districts, and disappear those suspected of spreading disease—or defying Renier’s rule.

They move with surgical precision, acting swiftly to suppress rumors, unrest, or even joy if it threatens to disrupt the tense equilibrium Jacqueline maintains. Entire households have vanished overnight after whispers of illness or rebellion reached the wrong ears.

The loyalty of the Casques Silencieux is unquestioning. Many believe they are bound by magic or blood pact, made utterly obedient to the will of their mistress. Some claim that beneath their masks are not faces, but rats—either figurative, or horrifyingly literal. Others believe they are simply broken men and women, reshaped into extensions of Jacqueline’s paranoia and ambition.

They do not speak, even when threatened, and rarely write. Orders are delivered through subtle gestures, coded taps, or written instructions sealed with Jacqueline’s personal sigil. Their silence is not a code—it is an edict.

The Casques Silencieux do not only patrol the streets. They listen at walls, watch from attics, and shadow gatherings, noting who speaks too freely, who fails to report sickness, who harbors fugitives or hoards medicine. Even in times of apparent peace, their presence lingers—a stillness in a doorway, a glint behind a curtain.

And when plague rises again, it is they who cordon the streets, burn the homes, and escort the infected to "safe houses" from which few return.

More than soldiers, the Casques Silencieux are the voice Jacqueline refuses to use—a voice of iron and fear. While Richemulot’s citizens distract themselves with music, masks, and whispers, they know in their bones that the Silent Helmets are always listening, always present, and always one unspoken word away.

To resist them is to challenge Jacqueline Renier herself—and few survive long enough to regret it.