A tall, relaxed-looking youth with rugged, open features and the restless balance of someone accustomed to uneven ground. His wheat-blond hair is cropped short and unevenly neat, with sunlit gold strands that show most clearly outdoors. Summer leaves his skin deeply bronzed; winter drains it to a startling pallor. He takes up more room than he realizes: elbows loose, shoulders broad, boots planted as if the floor were a forest path. His hands are strong enough to crack a chair rail when he grips it too hard. When rattled, his breathing becomes conspicuously shallow and his next words come out too quickly. He has an unexpectedly careful habit of folding and mending scraps of cloth, a quiet patience few expect from a celebrated marksman.

He is generous with food and help but fiercely protective of his independence; he is curious about unfamiliar traditions yet quick to judge people who dress or speak like courtly Europeans. In the woods he is patient and quietly attentive. At a formal gathering he becomes loud, talkative, and restless, while keeping a wary distance. He claims he can be cruel when necessity demands it, though he is much more troubled by that possibility than he lets on.

Alfred was born of the thirteen colonies and grew from infancy with startling speed, outgrowing a northern place-born child he had once thought of as a little brother. His father, Arthur, gave him one name and raised him as his son, though whispers about Alfred's birth have never settled. Berwald, Nils, and Allister are the possibilities Arthur will tolerate; other rumors, including ones Alfred finds cruel, circulate among distant relatives. Alfred tells himself that blood matters less than being Arthur's son, but the uncertainty still gnaws at him. He remembers his mother in flashes, some warm and some painful, and dislikes when anyone asks him to make those memories into a neat story. He spent his younger years in a calmer life among woods and familiar neighbors. A formative turning point came when a settlement's hunting party vanished during a winter search; Alfred followed their tracks and found the survivors, but arrived too late to save everyone. Since then he has treated wilderness skill as a duty, not merely a sport. He is an astonishing shot and an able woodsman, yet enjoys contests and the money that can come with winning. Arthur sends him to European courts to learn company and manners, most recently requiring him to spend time with Ludwig. Alfred is polite enough to endure it, but keeps his physical distance and dislikes stiff clothes and rules he did not choose. He is kind to people whom prevailing customs rank beneath him, while still carrying prejudices against Europeans and many other place-born people. He is curious about Native American traditions and finds a strange comfort in stories of thunderbirds and horned serpents, though he knows little enough to be wary of claiming understanding. His present trouble is that his growing reputation is pulling him away from the peaceful life he misses, while the question of where he belongs remains unanswered.