Tall and spare with the hard lines of someone who trains for a lifetime. His face is weather-scarred, the left cheek marred by a crescent-shaped scar that darkens when he thinks. He keeps a close-cropped beard threaded with a single silver braid tied with a faded blue ribbon. His movements are precise and economical, like a dance practiced until it became instinct. Unexpectedly, he favors a pair of brass-rimmed spectacles perched on his brow that he only uses to read bureaucratic forms; he keeps them even though his eyes are sharp. When at ease he fiddles with an old guard token on a leather thong around his neck.