In human guise, Lennard looks like a carefully composed young English gentleman, handsome in a slightly over-groomed way. His blond hair is parted with a ruler's precision, then repeatedly disturbed by his fingers and set back into place. Green eyes stay alert beneath neatly shaped brows. He holds his shoulders square and claims more room than his slender frame seems to require, especially in a crowded passage. His movements are measured until something catches his attention; then his head turns in a quick, birdlike jerk before he remembers to smooth it into a human gesture. The detail people least expect of a lodge concierge is his fastidious habit of polishing his brogues himself, even when the weather has made the effort futile. In his natural form he is a large, glossy raven, with a heavy beak and wings broad enough to make a close landing hazardous.

Lennard is observant and quick-witted, but he performs old-fashioned politeness so convincingly that people mistake it for obedience. He enjoys a joke and resents being managed; in immediate danger, however, he becomes careful and practical. With guests he is composed and helpful. With people he trusts, he is nosy, competitive, and more candid than is wise. He wants independence but also wants the safety and approval of a place that has given him work.

Lennard was born a raven in the Tower of London and spent his early life watching people from ledges, battlements, and roofs. He learned human habits by observation, not upbringing: when a guard looked away, how visitors queued, which voices carried authority. He eventually took human shape, adopting the polished manners and dress he had studied among Londoners. His first years among mortals were a run of dangerous games. He twisted perceptions, muddled directions, and made other supernatural beings doubt what they had just seen. During one ill-judged flight, Louise Sarne de Scathach caught him in the act. She stopped his interference with mortal senses and other splats, then delivered him to an Alpine freehold lodge that serves as a bath and resort. The lodge put him to work as messenger and concierge. He resents the leash, but has discovered that a service key and a guest list can open more doors than a prank. He now carries messages in raven form with care, watching locals and supernatural visitors without risking needless injury. His continuing problem is that several people at the lodge mistake his polished manner for a lack of intelligence. He is quietly trying to learn what Louise intends to do with him, while earning enough trust to choose his own flights.