A young man who moves like a town guard who once learned to dance. His plate gleams with careful dents and polish, each chip rubbed as if apologizing for existing. He wears a half-cloak embroidered with the sigil of his order but sewn on over a faded festival scarf he refuses to discard. When he walks, he keeps his shield slightly angled outward as if expecting to shelter someone who is not there. An unexpected contradiction is the way his hands are perpetually ink-stained from letters he never sends.