A polished public figure with a warm, practiced smile and courtly posture. He moves like a man used to being followed, each step measured so the train of his cloak settles perfectly. His fabrics are rich but restrained: matte black velvet under a sable-lined doublet embroidered with thin silver threads that form a faint pattern of laurel leaves. His rapier hangs at his hip in a scabbard of blackened leather carved with scenes of harvest and peace, an ironic flourish. Up close his left cheek bears a faint pale scar that angles down from beneath his eye like an old lightning mark. Unexpectedly his right hand is ink-smudged at the fingertips from midnight ledger-keeping; that small smudge gives the impression of a scholar hiding in a monarch.