Dark hair cropped close, grey arriving early at the temples, over fair skin and steady blue-grey eyes that go quieter the more honest he gets. He is tall and muscular, broad through the shoulders, with the still, watchful bearing of a man who stands watch without deciding to. A sabre scar crosses his left collarbone, white with age, and powder-burn speckles the back of his right hand — the hand he smooths flat against his thigh when he is holding something in. He wears his cavalry uniform, coat squared, every fastening checked.